


Unity

by swimmingwolf59



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Italian Mafia, Multi, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 01:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 72,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4285266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmingwolf59/pseuds/swimmingwolf59
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Vongola Family is falling to pieces, and it seems that Giotto can do nothing but watch. When the time comes, the one time it really matters, can Giotto be there to support the only family he has?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Giotto

**Author's Note:**

> The POV of this story will change each chapter, following each Primo in the following order: Giotto, G, Ugetsu, Alaude, Lampo, Knuckle, Daemon.  
> Also the chapters will get longer. Eventually.

It’s when G returned home, soaked in blood that may or may not have been his, that Giotto truly realized that what his family is in for is dangerous.

Really, he should’ve realized it when he first made the deal with Cozart and when they’d had their first battle with the Cielo. But it had never struck Giotto as life-threatening before now. He didn’t think anyone had.

Well, maybe that was just being optimistic.

G stumbled his way into the living room; leaning heavily on Ugetsu who was making a worried fuss, trying to clean his lover’s wounds. Lampo was clearing stuff off the couch so that Ugetsu could help G onto it. When he made it, and his broken leg was propped up on the arm of the couch, a very audible sigh escaped G’s lips as he finally rested his exhausted body. Ugetsu sat next to him and rested G’s head on his lap as he stroked the man’s hair lovingly, snapping at Lampo to get the first-aid kit and some wet rags.

Maybe it was also the first time Ugetsu had ever snapped at anybody that made Giotto realize he’d thrown his family into a path of death and murder. Giotto’s gut twisted at how G had smirked at him when they’d first started the family; no ideas of death on any of their minds.

_You sure get yourself into a lot of crazy things, Giotto._

Giotto sighed. He was being optimistic again.

In the end, he was the only one who hadn’t taken this seriously; who’d thought that all they’d be doing was protecting. How incredibly, sickening, wrong he was.

And now G was dying on his couch.

G coughed and some blood spurted out of his lips. Ugetsu almost fainted as it landed on his sleeve; staining it red. Lampo returned with the rags and first-aid kit and gave them to Ugetsu; who didn’t even stop to thank him as he usually would. All that was on his mind was that his lover was dying right in front of him.

He dabbed the wet rag all over G’s body; trying to find the actual wounds past all the dried blood that could’ve just as easily been someone else’s. Giotto thought briefly that he should be helping, but he couldn’t seem to move. His eyes were wide and unblinking as he stared at his guardian, his right-hand man.

His friend.

G’s hand came up weakly and pulled lightly on Ugetsu’s sleeve. Ugetsu didn’t stop his frantic cleaning, but he leaned down so that his ear was level with G’s mouth. G whispered something and Ugetsu froze. For a second. Then he was pushing on, a look of determination on his face as tears brimmed in his eyes.

“No, G, I’m not letting that happen. I’ll never let it happen,” Ugetsu murmured, over and over again as if he was trying to convince himself as well.

 

\--

 

After an agonizingly long twenty minutes, Ugetsu had most of the blood cleared away and G’s wounds were wrapped and coated with disinfectant, his leg in a makeshift cast.

G was no longer in danger of dying, at least for now, but he had passed out from blood-loss approximately five minutes ago. This had caused Ugetsu to go into a panicked frenzy, his hands jerking in random directions. He finally got them under control, after a shaky reassurance from Lampo which probably saved G’s life, but Ugetsu was still pale.

Ugetsu sat back in relief, his body sort of collapsing as he continued to stare at his unconscious lover. He ran his fingers through G’s red strands before tracing his finger along the scar that covered half of G’s face.

Finally Ugetsu stood up and lifted the limp body of his beloved as he walked off in the direction of the room they shared together. Giotto and Lampo were left to sit there alone; neither one of their eyes leaving the blood stain that G had left on the couch.

Bile, suddenly and quite quickly, rose in Giotto’s throat and he ran to the bathroom before he could release the contents of his stomach. He coughed and hacked before he was just dry-heaving over the toilet.

How could he have placed his family in such a position? Why had he been the only one not to take this seriously? Would they ever be able to go back to the days when they just played around and watched the World Cup? They were the only people he had ever known that had loved him and had treated him like a father and a brother. They were _everything_ to him; much more important than the parents that had dumped him so long ago. And Cozart…

Giotto wished that he’d never mentioned the word ‘Vongola’. He wished he’d never let Cozart coax him into thinking it was a good idea. He wished he’d never sent G on that mission.

His eyes brimmed with tears as he thought of his family, of Cozart. He’d never forgive Cozart for this. In a way, he blamed the man for everything that had happened. But he couldn’t really be mad at him. He wished he’d never met that nice, sweet man.

Hands clapped over his face, Giotto let out a wail of despair. He was so torn and so confused. He’d made his promise to Cozart, and Giotto was a man of his word. Besides, Knuckle had been forced into this world as well, hadn’t he?

There was no going back. For any of them.

 

\--

 

Giotto sat in the bathroom for a long time, his feelings raging around until he felt emotionally drained. He couldn’t stand the pounding in his chest whenever he thought of Cozart, or leaving the bathroom to see that blood-stained couch.

In a normal time, Giotto might’ve laughed at himself. Seriously, he was afraid of a couch. But now was no time for laughing.

Giotto stood shakily to his feet before he finally pulled on the bathroom door handle and exited. He stumbled out into the hallway where he was brought face to face with Ugetsu.

Ugetsu’s eyes were red and puffy and it was quite obvious that he’d been crying. He sniffed and wiped at his face before turning to Giotto, a dead look in his eyes.

This scared Giotto more than anything. Was G…?

“He’s still alive,” Ugetsu said, as if reading Giotto’s mind. He voice was lack of any emotion except for pain and slight anger. He glared at Giotto. “But just barely. He almost died today, Giotto. I hope you’re prepared for what you’ve signed us all up for.”

Ugetsu stalked away and Giotto thought he heard a small cry of grief. Everything was pulling at Giotto’s heart strings and he felt like he was going to explode. He collapsed against the hallway wall, too drained to move.

“I know, Ugetsu,” he whispered after him; even though Ugetsu was already long out of sight.


	2. G

It was a color G saw a lot in his life; the color of fire, the color of the sun during sunset. Hell, the color overwhelmed him every time he stared into a mirror; with his red hair, eyes, and scar. Red was always a comforting color for him. It was a sign that everything was normal.

But he didn’t like this red.

The red that made him wriggle and wrath from nightmares that plagiarized him with red, red, red. Blood red. The red tip of his arrow as it pierced through an enemy and red blood spurted everywhere.

He’d never killed a man before.

But now the blood seeped into him, staining him and soaking into his skin. He could never wash it free, could never make it heal with the red healing cover of a scab. G suddenly felt a feeling he’d never associated with the color red.

G’s eyes snapped open and he gasped suddenly, breathing like he’d never get enough oxygen. He sat up quickly; which was a bad idea. His side ached with a sudden ferocity and his vision swam. For a moment, the color red bled into his eyesight and he screamed; clutching his eyes as he desperately tried to make it go away.

Someone was suddenly at his side, arms hugging him tightly as they pulled G’s arms away from his eyes. His hands found their way into the other’s shirt as a strong hand kneaded at his back and gentle fingers stroked through his hair.

The red was gone and replaced with a calming shade of blue. G sighed as he recognized the form of his lover. His body shook as he clutched Ugetsu tightly; his only lifeline from that overwhelming sea of red. He spouted incoherent words, trying to tell Ugetsu so much but unable to do so. Ugetsu just shushed him and continued to comfort the other. G’s muscles relaxed as Ugetsu kneaded them, but G was scared to close his eyes and let sleep take him; lest the red come back and haunt him.

There was, however, one clear thought in G’s mind that had nothing and everything to do with the red. He somehow passed his incoherent jumble and spoke his mind.

“Giotto will be so disappointed with me.”

It came out in barely a whisper, but it was obvious Ugetsu had heard it as his whole body stiffened. Ugetsu leaned back slightly as he took G’s cheeks in his palms and caressed them carefully, lovingly.

“That’s wrong, G. Giotto is just happy that you’re alive,” Ugetsu murmured. His eyes hardened slightly as he leaned in to kiss G. G flinched slightly as he felt hot tears plop onto his nose. “I was so scared, G. I thought you were going to leave me.”

Ugetsu was crying heavily now and G felt like he should say or do something to comfort him, but nothing came to mind. He had no words to say. Nothing to comfort him. Sorry wouldn’t cut it; not with what G had done.

Sorry didn’t bring someone back to life.

G’s eyes dimmed as the images came flooding back; the man coming at him with a knife. G’s body responding in panic; his arm raising his bow to aim at a spot that Giotto had forbidden them to ever aim for. He saw as the arrow flew straight to its mark and pierced cleanly through the forehead. He saw as the knife dropped and the man fell; blood splattering onto G’s face.

Red. So much red.

The knife fell onto G’s leg; the one already broken from earlier injuries. He hissed as he tried to stand, tried to ignore the body, tried to ignore the black pulling at his vision, tried not to throw up. He couldn’t pass out, even if his side and his leg were burning in pain. There were people waiting for him at home. Giotto, Lampo, Knuckle, Ugetsu…

G snapped back to the present as he heard Ugetsu’s concerned voice calling his name. His eyes refocused and he stared into his lover’s worried face. This was the man who had given him the strength to make it home that night. After… after…

“I killed someone, Ugetsu.” The words came softly tumbling out against his slightly parted lips as Ugetsu kissed him softly, over and over again. His arms were hanging protectively around G but he stiffened as the words met his lips in a tickling vibration. Ugetsu’s arms tightened around G’s waist as he pulled back slightly to look G in the eye. A look of disbelief was there.

“…What?” Ugetsu proclaimed softly. G stared right back at Ugetsu, looking like part of his soul had been ripped out of him.

“Don’t make me say it again. I can’t.”

Ugetsu blinked at him before he processed the information and the dawning horror started to appear on his face. He quickly wiped off the expression, but G saw it. His heart felt like it was splitting from the guilt of killing someone and the pain of Ugetsu’s expression. He wanted so badly to make an excuse; afraid of breaking everything of their relationship that they’d worked so hard to build.

But he couldn’t. How he could make an excuse for something like that?

“… It’s okay…” Ugetsu said after a pause. “You must’ve had a good reason.”

G felt anger swelling inside of him, and he couldn’t remember feeling so angry at Ugetsu in his life. He pushed on his chest and spat in his face, his eyes burning with anger.

“How the fuck can you say that?! What good reason is there to take someone's life away?!” Ugetsu opened his mouth to say something but G interrupted him. “I don’t care that he was coming at me with a knife! He probably has a family out there, waiting for him to come home! Why did I have the right to make the decision of taking someone’s loved one away?!”

Ugetsu flinched as the words were shouted at him, and G felt immensely guilty. He drew back into the scared shell he’d been in since he woke up after the… _murder._ He shouldn’t have yelled at Ugetsu. He was only trying to help. But the guilt of his killing overwhelmed everything. It felt like if he said one thing selfish, it’d be like stepping on a land mine. How could he have taken someone’s life away?

A voice in the back of his head whispered that he was being naive. This was the mafia. Of course he was going to have to eventually kill someone.

G was snapped out of his thoughts yet again as Ugetsu gingerly picked him up in his arms. G was surprised at his sudden act of cuddliness until Ugetsu drew the blanket back on the bed and laid G onto it. He tucked him in and kissed his forehead.

“Get some sleep, G,” he whispered before turning his back to leave.

Fear surged in G’s chest at closing his eyes to his dreams, to the red. He reached out desperately with his hand to Ugetsu’s retreating back. His voice croaked as he called out to him.

“Ugetsu! Please, don’t leave.”

Ugetsu turned back, a look of pain on his face. But he walked back and sat on the bed next to G’s head. He wound his fingers through G’s red strands and accepted as G’s hand reached out to grab his. G’s body relaxed as Ugetsu’s presence surrounded him and he eventually fell into a troubled sleep.


	3. Ugetsu

Over the next few weeks, Ugetsu helped G as he healed physically; but he was unsure of how to help G heal mentally.

Every waking and sleeping moment, G was plagiarized with thoughts of the murder he committed; and Ugetsu didn’t know what to do. Everything he tried to do would only make G feel guilty and retract into his completely scared shell. Anything Ugetsu would try to feed him would come up minutes later. Nothing was working, and Ugetsu was panicking.

What was he supposed to do? How could he possibly convince his lover that it had to be done? Ugetsu wanted to believe so much that G wouldn’t have killed that man if he didn’t have to. But he must not have believed it enough, if he couldn’t even persuade G to believe it. The thought of killing someone brought bile to Ugetsu’s throat as well, but he realized that they were in the mafia.

Plus, Ugetsu would rather have G kill someone than have G be killed himself. That thought scared Ugetsu more than anything. He couldn’t lose G; he’d go crazy if he did.

There was also anger in Ugetsu, for maybe the first time in his life; at Giotto.

What could Giotto have possibly been thinking to agree to enter a world like this? Ugetsu was worried whenever someone took one step out of the door of their shack. He knew he shouldn’t, but Ugetsu blamed Giotto for G’s near death. If Giotto hadn’t had the _brilliant_ idea to start a mafia family, G would be fine. He’d be happy, not having nightmares; maybe Ugetsu would’ve been able to give him the ring that was hiding in his dresser drawer.

But no. The Vongola Family had ruined everything.

Ugetsu snapped out of his musings as G shifted. He tried to ignore the exhaustion pulling at his darkly-bagged eyes and squeezed his lover, who was curled into his arms, tightly. G’s sleep seemed to be better this time; Ugetsu hadn’t felt him thrashing or heard and whimpers.

Ugetsu wondered if he actually could’ve gotten some sleep last night.

G shifted once more as he woke up, and Ugetsu immediately leaned down to kiss him good morning. He kneaded his fingers into his lover’s lower back as he nuzzled his cheek.

“Good morning, love. Are you feeling any better?” Ugetsu asked softly, his eyes dancing with hope. Maybe, since he didn’t have any nightmares, G was getting better.

G just looked up at him blankly, guilt shimmering in his eyes. Ugetsu’s heart immediately sunk. Maybe the nightmares had stopped, but G was still a ghost of his former self. He didn’t reply and just turned onto his other side; his back now to Ugetsu.

Ugetsu felt his heart breaking. Did G not want him to be there anymore? Did he want to be left alone to die…?

Shaking his head violently, Ugetsu bit his lip to fight against tears. He refused to think of G dying. He’d get him to eat somehow and get him over his guilt, he had to… Until then, Ugetsu wouldn’t let his lover out of his sight.

“Come on, G,” Ugetsu murmured softly as he touched his lover’s shoulder. “Let’s go get something to eat, okay?”

G didn’t reply, so Ugetsu took that as a yes. He got up out of bed and then leaned across to pick up his lover bridal style. There was no complaint from G; which there should’ve been, but Ugetsu should’ve stopped being surprised already.

Tears slipped down his face as he carried G into their kitchen and set him down at his usual seat at the table. Ugetsu ignored Giotto, who was making his breakfast, as he went to get G’s morning cup of black coffee. At least this G could keep down.

“Is he any better?” Giotto asked, after a tense silence.

“No, he’s not,” Ugetsu snapped, angrily brushing his tears away on his sleeve. Giotto had no right to ask that; of course he wasn’t better! Did he think G was strong enough to get over murder so quickly? Like hell!

“Oh,” Giotto whispered. Ugetsu felt like he was going to snap. Oh? **_Oh????_** That was all he could say?!

Ugetsu glared at Giotto before taking the hot coffee over to where G was still sitting quietly at the table. He leaned down and kissed G’s forehead before holding the mug silently up to G’s mouth. G pursed his lips and Ugetsu slowly poured coffee into his lover’s mouth; making sure not to give him too much. He pulled up a chair and sat next to G, trying not to show his deep concern and worry.

G just sipped, his eyes blank and lifeless. Ugetsu could feel his heart breaking.

“He’ll never get better,” Ugetsu murmured shakily, tears falling down his face. If G had heard him say that, he showed no sign except to purse his lips when Ugetsu held the cup up for G to drink out of.

Giotto bowed his head before leaving hisbreakfast unfinished.


	4. Alaude

Alaude felt a deep anger.

Really, he shouldn’t care about things that had to do with Giotto and the others; he was a loner and preferred it that way. But he did care about this. It dug under his skin, and got on his nerves so that he couldn’t even sleep at night with how much this angered him. Knuckle was, of course, worried about him, but Alaude had to settle this or he’d never rest in peace.

He hated sometimes how much his anger could make him care about something. He liked being passive and cold about everything, and any emotion he held towards something meant that he cared about it; or at least cared enough to feel anger. And this was just so stupid that he shouldn’t even be angry.

But he was. And he had to do something about it.

He got up from his living room, where he’d been sitting to try and find some peace, and prepared himself to go to the Vongola base. He put on his thick trench coat and placed his handcuffs in his pocket. He knew he probably wouldn’t use them, but he never went anywhere without them. He then locked the door and walked down a cobbled stone path as he left the peace of his home.

Alaude lived in a house, a much nicer place then the dusty old shack that the rest of the Vongola called home. It was a small, but peaceful, house; only one story with a living room that could open up to the outside world. He often sat there, with the wall open so he could look out and feel the breeze, his only place of true solitude. There was almost nothing else in the house, just the essential furniture like a bed, table, chair, and couch.

Or at least, that’s how it had been.

Now there was other stuff spread everywhere, Knuckle having insisted on decorating. Most of the stuff was Christian or boxing things, and Alaude tried his best to avoid the rooms that had those things in it. He _hated_ boxing, and he was starting to get tired of God watching him while he peed.

There were a few things that Alaude liked, however. Knuckle had placed some paintings of flowers and small animals in the bedroom, and Alaude couldn’t help but feel relaxed whenever he saw them. There was a photograph of a small yellow bird in the living room that only added to the nature feeling he felt whenever he sat there.

It was truly the place that Alaude felt more relaxed.

But, as he left the peace of his home, Alaude felt the anger that he’d been able to momentarily dispatch boil up again. He was going to settle this once and for all, and he wouldn’t go home until he did.

He stalked through the shack hallways of the Vongola base, knowing they’d be around here somewhere. It had been a long time since he’d been here, but that didn’t mean he was completely cut off. Knuckle told him things and he had his ways of keeping connected with the family. He just didn’t do it that often. Plus, he’d memorized the entire layout of this shack a long time ago.

A white cloak suddenly caught his eye, and he clenched his fists tightly.

He’d found them.

Ugetsu was walking with his lover, like he always did in some weird attempt to get G to react to something. His arm was around G’s waist and he was rambling on and on about something that Alaude really didn’t care about.

“G.” Alaude could barely keep his anger in check with just that one letter. Alaude was really good about controlling and hiding his emotions, but this intense anger made it hard for even him.

At the call of his lover’s name, Ugetsu turned around and he nodded his head slightly in greeting. G didn’t even move his head, or any other part of his body, an inch. Alaude’s anger began to boil over. He had been talking to G, not his lover! Unless Ugetsu had changed his name to G, or something, he shouldn’t have been the one who had responded.

Letting his anger take control for once, Alaude walked swiftly before pushing G as hard as he could. G stumbled and face-planted on the floor, and Alaude felt a smug satisfaction as he heard the noise of G’s head hitting the floor. Damn brat deserved that. Ugetsu screamed and ran to his lover, helping him sit up and fussing over him as he tried to find any sign of injury.

“What are you doing?!” He screeched at Alaude.

Alaude ignored the rain guardian and bent down to meet G’s eye level. G was glaring at him, an old spark of his former self shining in his eyes. Alaude lifted G’s head by his hair, a smirk on his face as he saw the pain flash in G’s face.

“Who do you think you are?” Alaude hissed. He tugged on G’s head, snapping the storm guardian’s neck up. “Do you think you’re so special because you killed a man? Do you think you’re the only one with blood on their hands?”

G panted slightly from the pain that Alaude was dealing him, his eyes never leaving Alaude as he listened. Truly listened, like he hadn’t for quite some time. Alaude threw him to the ground and stood up.

“You disgust me. You’re in the mafia, the right-hand man of this family, and you become a shell as soon as you get blood on your hands. You’re weak. If you want to protect what you care for, then become so strong that you don’t have to kill people to win. Become someone to be feared of, so that you don’t even have to fight. As you are now, you won’t even last a week in the mafia.”

Alaude began to walk away, ignoring the glare to his back that was no doubt from Ugetsu. The man had become snappish and over-protective of the stupid shell that was G, ever since the night he had almost died. Alaude grimaced. It wasn’t even worth it, being protective of that weakling.

“W-wait…”

Alaude stopped. The voice that had spoken was dry and cracky, like it hadn’t been used for a while. Alaude smirked as he stayed still, waiting for that voice to be used again. He knew who it was, and he wondered what could possibly be so important that he had to talk and use his dry throat now.

“I-in a month, I challenge you. If you win, you have every right to kill me. If I win, I want you to recognize me as the true right-hand man of the Vongola Family.”

Raising his eyebrows, Alaude couldn’t help but be shocked at this turn of events. The very idea excited him, to go all out on someone like G. As he was now, he was weaker than a bag of dirt, but G had made quite some progress in just a month with that bow of his. To see how he progressed from this point would be truly interesting.

Alaude turned around. He looked down at G, who was struggling to stand up on his own. In his eyes, flashed a determination that Alaude had never seen before.

He smirked.

“Challenge accepted.”

He could hear Ugetsu gasp as Alaude walked away, no doubt worried about his lover. If Ugetsu truly cared about G, he would let him do this with no doubts that he’d win. He wouldn’t fuss, he wouldn’t snap at anyone who came near like he’d been doing. How could he be supportive, otherwise? He would just be a crutch for G, who needed to stand on his own if he was ever going to be a worthy right-hand man. Besides, he should believe in G who could maybe someday surpass even Giotto.

That is, if he could survive next month.

Alaude walked into the next hallway, where he wasn’t surprised to see Giotto waiting. He turned to face the boss, a blank expression on his face.

“I did what you asked me, Giotto. And I think your storm guardian has repaid it quite well.”

He then walked out of the base, excitement coursing in his veins for the fight to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s almost nothing on Alaude at all, so I based his lifestyle somewhat around Hibari (even though there’s practically nothing on his either haha) and tried to be creative. I hope you liked it, and thanks for reading!


	5. Lampo

Lampo stood awkwardly in the back of the room, vaguely wondering why he was here.

Giotto had come up to him that morning, stating that Lampo was coming along with him on a mission. At first, Lampo had been excited. Was Giotto actually letting him go on a real mission? Sure, he knew they were dangerous; look how G had come home that one night! But Lampo ached for battle, something to prove that he wasn’t a kid.

However, all he was doing was being a witness to a meeting.

Apparently it was an important meeting. Giotto had been talking with Cozart again (who knows why, Lampo had thought it had already been decided that listening to Cozart was a bad idea) and had decided that it was a good time to look for an heir. When Lampo asked why so soon, Giotto simply said that he didn’t know how much longer the Primo would last.

G was again used as an example.

Lampo felt slightly angry. G’s near death experience had been like a wake up slap to everyone and now Giotto thought everyone was going to die! They weren’t even referred to as if they were still alive! They were called the Primo. Like there was a Secondo family, when there wasn’t.

Lampo, _the_ lightning guardian of Vongola dammit, thought everyone was overreacting.

But here he was, standing in the meeting room in front of the scariest guy on earth.

In search for a Secondo, Giotto had gone through some mafia files (who knew how he’d obtained them). He wanted the heir of Vongola to understand why the mafia family had been created in the first place, to be considerate, and be worthy of Giotto’s Dying Will.

And somehow he’d thought Ricardo, the mafia boss of a small family called Morte, would fit the description. Morte which, in Italian, translated to death. How did Giotto in any way think that a kind and considerate person was leading a mafia family called Death?

Lampo just sighed inwardly and decided to pay attention to the meeting he was currently attending.

“Vongola was created to protect the people; not sell drugs illegally or any underhand mafia business. We became mafia to destroy the current definition of mafia,” Giotto was explaining. In front of him sat Ricardo.

Ricardo was a tall man with long black hair that was at the moment tied into a long ponytail. His hair was spiky, like the sideburns that looked like checkmarks on each side of his face. Lampo was still trying not to laugh at those. He had green eyes and wore a black suit with a brown undershirt. He didn’t at all look friendly, and looked like he was about to snap someone’s neck.

And Lampo had heard rumors. Ricardo was not a man to be messed with.

However, at the moment, in Lampo’s opinion, Ricardo looked entirely bored with the whole conversation.

“Giotto,” Ricardo politely interrupted, “aren’t we all trying to do that? Except for those lowly mafia families who just feel greed and not compassion. Let’s move on to the main point, shall we? Why would you pick us to be your Secondo?”

Lampo decided immediately that he didn’t like Ricardo. The way the man carried himself was like he was putting himself upon a high pedestal, he talked like everyone should stop and listen to him and nobody else. He was also pretending to be polite. Lampo could see a light of impatience in the man’s eyes.

He hated people like that.

“Well,” Giotto finally replied after he thought for a moment, “I want Vongola to be strong enough to reach the goals that we’ve put up for ourselves. I believe my guardians can be strong, and we need this to continue if the Vongola wants to keep itself alive. I believe your guardians can do that. And I also believe that you’re not as bad as people say you are, Ricardo, and that you would fight for your goals.”

Ricardo processed this, glancing at his guardians. They were all lined up beside him, yet none of them had said a word yet. Lampo hadn’t heard a single noise from any of them, actually.

On Ricardo’s right stood his right-hand man and rain guardian; Aldo. He was also fairly tall, though not as tall as Ricardo. He had a sword case strapped to his back, his long dark blue hair almost covering it. He had dark grey eyes, and he wasn’t smiling. He stared straight ahead, like all of the other guardians.

On Ricardo’s left was his storm guardian; Berengar. He had brown hair that descended over his eyes in a bull cut. The only thing showing on his face was a creepy smile. Lampo had heard rumors that the man was a psychopath, but so was Daemon so he didn’t really care.

Behind Aldo was the sun guardian; Calogero. He was a bald, elderly man but he had a striking handsomeness that Lampo never associated with bald people. He’d also heard rumors about this man, that he was gay, but so was almost everyone in Lampo’s family so he didn’t really mind that, either.

Behind Berengar was the lightning guardian; Damiano. He had blonde hair that spiked up in a tall Mohawk and he had piercings all over his body. Eyebrows, tongue, lips, ears, belly button (the man was wearing a belly shirt) and Lampo was sure there were other places.

Lastly, off to the side, was Ricardo’s cloud guardian; Gregario. He was standing in just the right angle so that the shadows of the room were covering half of him, and all Lampo could see was a lock of red and a piercing eye which didn’t look happy at all.

Lampo gulped and decided to stop looking at the guardians.

“I’m touched that you have such faith in us, Giotto. We would be happy to fulfill your wishes in how the Vongola Family will progress. You won’t have to worry about a thing and, when the time comes, you’ll be able to rest peacefully in your grave,” Ricardo assured, sprinkling a lot of sugar on his words in Lampo’s opinion. Why was the guy trying so hard for Giotto to like him? Surely Giotto was smart enough to realize that this guy was way suspicious?

But Giotto just nodded.

“It would be a pleasure knowing you were the one who took my spot. May I ask, though; where is your mist guardian?”

Lampo was trying hard not to lose all respect for Giotto. Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to have the ‘hyper intuition’?

“Probably off to who knows where. You know how those mist guardians are.” Ricardo shrugged before looking straight at Lampo. “And where are your guardians? There’s only a kid standing over there.”

Lampo had to bite his lip to the point of blood to restrain himself from jumping over the table, snarling, and strangling the apparent Secondo to death. No one called him a kid, except for G!

“That’s my lightning guardian, Lampo. Since we were just meeting the Secondo, I found there no need to bring all of my guardians,” Giotto replied coolly.

Ricardo merely nodded before losing all interest in Lampo. Lampo clenched and unclenched his fists. When he was dead and gone, he knew at least _he_ wouldn’t be resting peacefully in his grave!

“Well, I guess we’d better get going then,” Ricardo sighed before standing. “You’ll see us very soon, Giotto.”

Lampo couldn’t stop the chill that ran down his spine as the Morte Family walked away. Now _that_ was a creepy omen.

Back in Giotto’s van, heading home, Lampo was still thinking about the Morte. He didn’t like them at all, and he couldn’t believe that Giotto had agreed to make Ricardo his heir.

“Why would you pick a man like that?” Lampo asked. “I didn’t trust a word he said, his aura made him seem like he was about to snap someone’s neck!”

“That’s rude, Lampo,” Giotto replied. “Appearances aren’t everything.”

Lampo sighed, leaning back into his seat. He fiddled with his thumbs, unable to shake the sense of dread that was slowly descending onto him. He felt like this was a very big mistake.

No matter what Giotto thought, Lampo had a bad feeling about Ricardo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the actual main plot comes into play with the introduction of the Secondo Family! :D Mostly all of them don't exist, so I created them loosely around the Varia since Xanxus is said to be a descendant of Ricardo. Anyway, I hope you liked them, and I promise they'll get more of a role later on ;)  
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Knuckle

The family was falling apart.

When Knuckle was a child, abandoned and left to fight for himself on the streets, he’d been taken in by the man who’d taught him how to box. The man’s name was Kentaro. He was a middle-aged man who’d been a boxing champ in his day. He had no other family, that Knuckle had known about, and was barely scraping by, but he still gave Knuckle a home. Knuckle had never known how to repay him, so he’d trained as hard as he could to be the best boxer he could be.

On the day of his first match, Knuckle had won the Championship. It was the happiest and saddest day of his life because, while his foster father was climbing onto the boxing ring to be with Knuckle, someone shot him. It was fast, sudden, and completely unexpected.

Knuckle still remembered watching Kentaro fall as blood spurted from his head. Sometimes he still had nightmares about it.

After being kicked back onto the streets, only able to survive with the money he’d won from the tournament, Knuckle decided to become Christian. He figured that his foster father’s death had been God’s way of punishing him for boxing, and that if he prayed every day, no one he loved would ever die that way again.

That was when Giotto had found him. Still a kid himself, Giotto had reached out to Knuckle and offered him a home. Knuckle cried that day, thanking God for being generous to a lowly bag of dirt like him.

He hung up his boxing gloves, and dedicated his life to Giotto and the family.

But now, after so many years together, it was all falling apart.

Ugetsu and Giotto weren’t speaking to each other, G was barely recovering and mainly kept to himself, Lampo was mad at Giotto, Alaude and Daemon weren’t even around… But that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was that no one but Knuckle seemed to notice it.

And Knuckle couldn’t do anything about it. Though it was his family, most of the problems that were occurring had nothing to do with him. So he sat in the house he shared with Alaude and prayed as hard as he could for God to give him guidance.

So far, however, nothing.

Knuckle decided that the best thing to do was to go talk to Giotto.

Going over into the main shack, Knuckle gripped tightly to his bible. He never went anywhere without it, and recently he’d even been sleeping with it. Though it made Alaude angry, Knuckle couldn’t help it. He needed God’s guidance more than ever.

Reaching Giotto’s door, Knuckle hesitated in front of it. What was he supposed to say? ‘Hey Giotto, the family’s falling apart. Do something,’ definitely wasn’t the best way to say this. Giotto possibly didn’t even realize how wrong everything was.

Finally he just took a deep breath and went inside.

What he saw shocked him. Giotto was lying face down on his desk, head in his arms. Knuckle couldn’t tell if Giotto was crying or unconscious.

He hesitantly approached the table, nervousness gripping at him. He didn’t like this at all.

“Giotto…?”

Giotto’s head shot up, making Knuckle flinch back. Giotto stared at him unfocused, not recognizing him for a second, before he shook his head and sighed. He rested his chin on his palm and stared at Knuckle, the boxer trembling a little from the dark bags and puffiness around Giotto’s eyes.

“Knuckle… What can I do for you?” Giotto said, trying to sound confident though his voice was shaking.

Knuckle swallowed. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to bring this up. Giotto looked like he had enough on his mind already. He clutched his bible tighter.

“Giotto… The family’s falling apart. Everyone’s avoiding everyone else and hatred is spreading through us… If it’s even possible, even Daemon and Alaude are more absent than usual,” Knuckle spat out, wanting to get it over with. Giotto had to know, if he couldn’t realize it by looking right in front of him.

Giotto sagged, his head falling back onto his desk. Knuckle, for a panicked moment, thought the man had passed out.

But he lifted his head again and regarded Knuckle with the most exhausted look the boxer had ever seen.

“I know… But I’m not sure if there’s anything we can do about it… Things will just have to heal themselves…”

A tear rolled down Giotto’s cheek. Knuckle decided to politely excuse himself and left Giotto’s office. He stood with his back against the door and stared up at the ceiling, sending a quick prayer to God.

Seeing Giotto so shaken up had really frightened him. Giotto had always been the one that kept his calm in times of need, but now even he couldn’t do anything to reassure anyone. A bad feeling crept over Knuckle, like something was deathly wrong.

The only thing that could reassure him now was that God would hopefully give them guidance.

 

\--

 

When Knuckle got home, Alaude still wasn’t there. He tried not to let himself worry, since Alaude was often off doing his own business, but the lingering feeling that something was wrong was still there.

Going into the bathroom to take a shower and wash off all of these bad feelings, he realized something was amiss. Though it took him a while to realize it, Knuckle noticed that the picture of God was gone.

He happened to glance out the window and there it was; the God picture lying in the bushes beneath the window. It was cracked straight through the middle, making God’s face almost unrecognizable.

A sharp sense of forbidding hit Knuckle, making him decide to skip the shower and head straight for bed. He clutched the bible tight to his chest as he curled into a small ball.

Alaude didn’t come home that night.


	7. Daemon

The man screamed as blood gurgled up out of his throat, his eyes widening in fear. Blood dribbled down his chin as the curse tore out his organs one by one, eventually leaving a shell as he fell face first into his own blood.

Daemon stared down at the man, cold disgust on his face. What a weakling he’d been. He hadn’t even tried to fight back against Daemon, just gaped at him as his body was destroyed. How pathetic.

Walking through the pile of dead bodies he’d left behind, crunching occasional skulls with his boot, Daemon clenched his fists. He visibly shook with pain and anger.

He was thinking about her again. It was hard not to. It’d already been a year, but the pain and anger he felt at her death was still fresh. His poor, dear Elena… Her death had been cruel and could’ve easily been stopped. But Giotto cared too much about random civilians than he did about people he actually knew. Withdrawing military forces in fear of becoming selfish… How stupid!

Daemon kicked a corpse before sitting down on a charred tree stump. He buried his face in his hands and screamed as hard as he could. How he hated Giotto for making that weak-hearted decision, how he would never forgive him for it.

Ever since Elena’s death, the kind, compassionate, and slightly creepy person he’d been was no more. How could he care about weaklings who did so much for others that they couldn’t even protect those close to them? Those who had no intention to fight for their lives had no right to mercy!

When Daemon finally finished screaming, he looked up from his hands and stared out across the field of corpses. Slowly, he started to chuckle before it turned into loud manical laughter. This was the kind of beauty that Daemon was capable of creating. Weak saps were finally being sent to their rightful place.

He eventually stood up and walked away, turning his back on the wasteland without a tinge of regret. All of his sympathy had dried up the day he lost Elena.

Wandering aimlessly, Daemon flicked the lens that hung around his neck. He didn’t really have anywhere to go anymore, not that he cared. He’d never return to that dirty old shack he’d once called home. Giotto was smart enough to give him a wide berth, for Daemon planned to take all of his anger and pain out on him as soon as he was in sight. He also couldn’t go back to the nobility; he’d hated it there, and they wouldn’t accept him as he was now anyway.

But he had a home now. And what he did and who he was now was appreciated and welcome there, unlike with the weak Vongola.

Since teleporting was quicker and less tiresome, Daemon did just that. The world blurred around him and a brief dizziness overcame him briefly before the world solidified again. Instead of the wasteland, he was now standing in front of a large mansion. Smirking, he stepped up on the porch and went inside.

Upon entering, he was met with the huge living room. White pillars stood tall on either side of the doorway, reaching up to the floor of the second story and creating a large empty space. The floor was made of pearly marble and the furniture was all white. Personally, Daemon would’ve preferred a completely black atmosphere, but it was nice so whatever.

As he walked further into the room, he didn’t even acknowledge Aldo and Calogero playing cards on the couch. He didn’t really care about the Morte family’s guardians; they were strong, that’s all that mattered. He could feel Gregario staring at him, which only made him smirk as he passed the cloud guardian and headed up the stairs to Ricardo’s room. He’d always wanted to fight Gregario, just the powerful aura coming from him made Daemon’s pulse quicken with excitement.

But now wasn’t the time for that.

Entering Ricardo’s room, Daemon bowed gracefully like he’d been taught to do in the aristocracy.

“You wanted to speak to me, Ricardo?”

Ricardo looked up from some stacks of paper on his desk, his eyes narrowed in irritation. There were deep bags under his eyes and his hair was frizzy. Daemon had to hold back a snort. He wondered how bad Ricardo’s image would fall if people saw him life this.

“Took you long enough. Is it really that hard to teleport here on time?” Ricardo snapped, leaning back in his chair with authority.

Daemon just smiled.

“I had some business to attend to before I came here.” Daemon picked at some dried blood under his nails, pursing his lips. How unprofessional.

“Well, whatever,” Ricardo snorted. “I want you to go back to the Vongola. To spy. I don’t give a shit if you don’t ever want to see them ever again, but if you want proper revenge, you need to make some sacrifices.”

Ricardo leaned forward and propped his elbows on his desk, his eyes gleaming.

“I want to know everything about the Vongola. Giotto may have hyper intuition, but he has major weak points and I want to exploit them as much as possible. He was an idiot to fall for my lies. To think, I was lying through my teeth and he didn’t even bat an eyelash!”

Daemon said nothing. Everything on his skin was itching with distaste at the thought of living among the Vongola again. Of course, he didn’t show it. Revenge for Elena was more important, anyway.

“Of course. I’ll get on it immediately.” Daemon interrupted Ricardo’s rant, bowing again before excusing himself and teleporting outside of the mansion. He didn’t want the other guardians to see him.

His eyes narrowed and he clenched his fists, a tree snapping in the distance. Black crept up the bark before the snapped trunk finally fell to gravity and toppled to the ground. Daemon released a breath and decided to walk to the Vongola base.

After all, he needed to prepare himself for his disguise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with this chapter. Getting into the crazy character of Daemon was really fun. Hope you guys liked how I portrayed him, and thanks for reading!  
> The chapters get longer after this - I promise!


	8. Giotto

Giotto didn’t know what to do.

G was depressed, Ugetsu and Lampo were mad at Giotto, Alaude and Daemon were gone, and Knuckle was stuck trying to be the glue that kept the family together. But that strain was too much on the young ex-priest, and he barely came out of his room these days. A time like this was usually when Giotto’s hyper intuition kicked in with the right answer, but Giotto’s brain was as empty as Daemon’s old room.

How was he supposed to fix anything? He knew it was his fault that G had gotten hurt, which had seemed to start this whole mess, but what was he supposed to do? The Vongola had already made so many enemies and allies that, if they were to back out now, they would be sought out and slaughtered for their cowardliness. At least not running away gave them some chance at surviving.

Giotto couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless.

He needed to talk someone, but whom? Ugetsu and Lampo wouldn’t listen to him, and the others were either gone or nonresponsive. Giotto’s gut twisted at the thought that he couldn’t even confide in his own family about the problems. He remembered the time Knuckle had tried to talk to him about it, but Giotto had been too exhausted and distressed from trying to find a solution that he’d turned the sun guardian away.

He’d missed his only chance.

Pulling at his hair in frustration, Giotto tried to think of someone else he could go to. Ricardo was out of the question, since the proud mafia boss would probably squash the Vongola if they showed any signs of weakness and take up his post early.

A cold shock pierced the back of Giotto’s neck, and he shivered. Something was telling him he’d made a huge mistake, but if it was his revived hyper intuition, or something else, Giotto didn’t know.

He… He had to talk to Cozart.

Making up his mind, Giotto pushed back on his desk and stood up from his chair. He hadn’t left the chair for days, exactly how many he couldn’t remember. The sudden action of standing up sent a strong wave of dizziness through his head and he groaned as he found he could barely stand. He placed a hand on his desk and waited for the dizziness to pass before attempting to stand on his own again.

Maybe he needed to get something to eat first.

He wobbled out of his room, somehow finding the energy to move. How had he not noticed how malnutrition he’d let himself become? He had been so stressed over the problem of his family that he’d completely ignored his own bodily needs, he figured.

Somehow making it into the kitchen, Giotto swallowed as he saw Ugetsu and G in the room already. Ugetsu was watching as G ate a piece of toast on his own, his body tense as if waiting for the moment when G would need his help.

Giotto felt a spark of hope shoot through him at the fact that G was eating without Ugetsu’s help. Maybe the family could still get itself back together!

But, as he moved over to the counter to get himself something to eat, Ugetsu looked up and sent a glare his way. Any hope that Giotto had felt plummeted. Maybe G was getting better, but Ugetsu still hadn’t forgiven him for the fact that G had almost died in the first place.

Giotto swallowed back a sudden wave of dizziness and despair, focusing on making himself a sandwich instead. But, however much he tried, he could still feel Ugetsu’s glare against his back.

As Giotto bit into his sandwich, tears started to flow freely down his face.

It was hopeless. No matter how much G recovered, Ugetsu would never forgive him for what could’ve been. And even if G did recover, it didn’t affect the other guardians. Lampo would still be mad, Knuckle would still be a shut-in, and Alaude and Daemon would still be gone.

Giotto forced himself to stop crying as he finished his sandwich, not wanting to show his tears to his storm and rain guardians.

“Giotto?”

The cracked voice calling his name startled Giotto, causing him to almost drop his sandwich. He wiped at his eyes and turned to face the table, where both G and Ugetsu were staring at him. Ugetsu’s gaze wavered with confusion, as if he couldn’t figure out why G would be speaking to Giotto.

Giotto swallowed.

“Yes, G?”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened to me, Giotto,” G mumbled, giving Ugetsu a pointed look. Ugetsu stared at his lap. “I panicked, but really I should’ve realized that I had to kill someone eventually. It was selfish of me to be depressed, and I don’t want everyone fighting because of my mistake.”

Giotto wasn’t sure what to say. How could he not blame himself? If not for G’s depression, Ugetsu wouldn’t have been mad at him and maybe he would’ve been able to keep the family together. Giotto glanced at Ugetsu, but the rain guardian was still staring down at his lap.

“G… Even if you don’t blame me for what happened, I do. It’s my fault that the family is falling apart,” Giotto replied, his throat feeling tight.

He couldn’t look at them anymore. Pushing his way past the table, Giotto quickly left the room, grabbed his coat, and went outside.

The crisp winter air slapped his face and he flinched. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been outside, and he wondered when it had gotten cold. Just how long had he been cooped up in his office?

Giotto pushed his hands deep into his pockets and started walking, his feet automatically taking him to where he wanted to go.

It had been a long time since he’d been to Cozart’s mansion. The last time he’d been over was when they had discussed the creation of the Vongola. With a twinge of pain in his gut, Giotto remembered that that had been the last time he’d ever contacted Cozart. When G had been severely injured, Giotto had cut all contact with Cozart. He couldn’t help but blame him for what had happened, but Giotto realized how selfish that was. He couldn’t blame the Shimon boss for his mistakes.

Suddenly feeling nervous (Giotto didn’t know if Cozart was mad at him for cutting ties with him or not), Giotto hesitated as he stood in the doorway. Did he really want to talk about problems that he’d blamed Cozart for?

Pushing his silly thoughts away, knowing he had no other option, Giotto knocked on the door.

To his surprise, the door opened almost immediately. Familiar orange hair peeked out from underneath a black messenger cap as Cozart appeared in the doorway. He wore a white button-up shirt and a black vest with orange buttons over it. He had black baggy pants on, orange socks poking out from under the baggy pants’ legs. Giotto swallowed as he recognized the outfit as the one Cozart had worn the first time they’d met.

“… Giotto?” Cozart blinked, as if he couldn’t quite believe that the Vongola boss was standing on his doorstep.

Giotto stood frozen, almost not believing he was on the doorstep either. Just what did he want to say to this man? Sorry, my family’s falling apart, it’s all your fault, do something, was definitely not how he wanted to word it.

Cozart was the first to unfreeze. He backed out from the doorway and ushered Giotto in, as if noting that Giotto wasn’t in his right state of mind.

“Well, come in. It’s cold outside!”

Giotto numbly walked in, starting to think that talking to Cozart might not have been the best idea. He barely took in the grand architecture of Cozart’s living room, how the room was bigger than the Vongola’s shack but still had that cozy, at home feeling. He just slumped into the red velvet couch and stared blankly at the wall.

Now that he was there, he didn’t know what to say.

Cozart disappeared into another room for a moment before coming back with two steaming cups of tea. Giotto’s stomach churned at the thought of drinking it, but he didn’t want to be rude.

He took the cup and took a tentative sip as Cozart sat a respectable distance from him on the couch. Giotto stared down into the steam from his cup, unable to meet Cozart’s concerned gaze.

After a moment of silence, Cozart was once again the one to break the ice.

“Giotto? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Giotto could see Cozart’s hand shaking on his own teacup.

Even though he felt absolutely stupid about bringing his problem to Cozart, Giotto realized that it was cruel to keep his friend worrying. So, ignoring his hyper intuition telling him to keep silent (his hyper intuition had abandoned him when he really needed it, why should he listen to it now?), Giotto told Cozart what was happening.

“Cozart… I’m sorry for cutting ties with you, it’s just… My family’s been falling apart…” Giotto choked on his words, so he paused to take a sip of the tea that now felt more comforting than nauseating. “Some of my guardians hate me, some are missing, and G was depressed for a really long time. I know it’s selfish of me to come to you, but I don’t know what to do…”

Cozart sat in silence for a long time, making Giotto wonder if the man had fallen asleep. His guts churned inside him and he tightened his grip on the cup. If Cozart was just going to be silent, Giotto might as well have stayed at home!

Finally, though, Cozart spoke.

“Giotto, I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to hate you. Even if you screwed up big time, I don’t think anyone could hate you.” Cozart leaned forward to stare intently into Giotto’s eyes. Giotto couldn’t help but look away. “You need to lead them, Giotto. You need to be there for them. You need to bring them all together and show them that there’s a reason to stick together. Otherwise they’ll just continue drifting away.”

Cozart hesitated, before his hand came out to rest on Giotto’s knee. Giotto stiffened, not sure what to make of the other man’s touch. Was it supposed to be comforting?

Giotto shook his head in confusion.

“Cozart, you don’t understand… There are some mistakes that can’t be forgiven… And I’ve made several of them…” Giotto mumbled, looking down at his reflection in the tea. He suddenly realized how disheveled he looked, like he’d just crawled out of a sewer after living there for months. He wondered when the last time he’d cared about how he looked was.

Suddenly the teacup was gone, placed on a nearby table by Cozart, and the orange-haired man was gripping both of Giotto’s hands tightly. Giotto flinched from the contact, looking up at Cozart in shock. The man’s eyes shimmered with desperation, passion, and something else that Giotto couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Giotto, you need to stop blaming yourself,” Cozart was saying, but he sounded distant. “How can you pick up your family if you can’t even pick up yourself? Everything is not your fault!”

Cozart’s hands felt clammy, but maybe that was just Giotto’s own hands that he was feeling. He suddenly realized that he was shaking. Why was it so hard to get a simple answer from someone? Stop blaming himself? How could he? Even if he didn’t blame himself, people of his own family still would. He thought about what G had said earlier, and how that still hadn’t changed Ugetsu’s mind.

Giotto threw Cozart’s hands away and stood up, dizziness swarming in his head again. But he ignored it.

“That won’t solve anything!” Giotto shouted at Cozart. “Even if I forgive myself, it won’t mean the others will!”

Cozart stood up as well, grabbing Giotto’s arm to steady him, but the Vongola boss shook him off. He didn’t want to be there anymore. He turned tail and started to leave, but Cozart was holding onto his arm again and roughly turning him around. He gripped Giotto’s shoulders tightly as he looked directly into his face.

“Giotto, no one hates you. You have to stop thinking that they do.” Cozart’s voice was surprisingly gentle for how hard his grip was.

But, still, Giotto shook his head.

“You don’t know that…” He mumbled, putting up a weak attempt to get out of the other man’s grasp.

Cozart only gripped him harder.

“I do know that. I know that because I… because I love you,” Cozart whispered, his hand gently coming up to stroke Giotto’s cheek.

Giotto froze, every muscle in his body stiffening in shock. What? _What?!_ What did he _mean_ that he loved him?! Giotto felt himself breaking down as the information sunk in, every particle in his body dissolving in shock and despair.

This had to be a lie. How could Cozart love someone like him? Not only was he a pathetic excuse of a mafia boss, but he was also another _man._ He doubted that Cozart was gay.No. This must be an attempt to confuse him, get his family to split even farther.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

Giotto pushed on Cozart, startling the other man enough to make him loosen his grip. Giotto backed away, running into a chair as he attempted to leave.

“Stop lying to me.” Giotto was trying to be firm, but his voice was shaking. “You just want my family to split even more! You want the Vongola to disappear, just like everybody else!”

Cozart’s eyes widened.

“No, Giotto, that’s not it at all-!”

Tears welled up in Giotto’s eyes as he turned around and fled, interupting Cozart. He ignored him as the man called out for him to wait, his heart shattering into a million pieces.

This wasn’t what he wanted to happen.

Giotto ran. He didn’t know where, he just had to get away from that orange-haired man and his mansion. He finally collapsed in an alleyway, curling into a fetal position and resting his head in his arms. He let the tears fall, his mind more confused than it had been when he left for Cozart’s.

He only knew one thing: he and his family were on their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Cozart is depicted as having red hair like Enma, but I thought it was weird that the Shimon Primo would look exactly like the Shimon Decimo so, for this story, I changed the color of Cozart’s hair to orange. Sorry if that throws anyone off.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	9. G

The time had come for G’s fight with Alaude.

Ever since the cloud guardian had bullied him in the hallway, G had slowly come out of his depression. Alaude’s anger had been like a slap in the face; showing him just how selfish he really had been. He wasn’t the only one to get blood on his hands, and, if he wanted to stop the killing for good (which was what the Vongola initially stood for), then G had to become strong enough to not have to resort to that method.

He also needed to distance himself from Ugetsu.

As much as he loved his rain guardian, Ugetsu was too much of a crutch that G felt compelled to lean on. If he was ever going to get stronger, he needed to stand on his own. And he couldn’t do that with Ugetsu hovering over his every move.

Though it dug a hole in his heart every time G saw the hurt expression on Ugetsu’s face, G had told him that he needed space to train.

“I need to get stronger so I can beat Alaude,” G had told him. They were sitting in the room they shared together; Ugetsu on the bed, and G on a chair in front of his lover. He needed to look the rain guardian in the eyes for this conversation.

“I could help train with you!” Ugetsu had immediately offered, but G shook his head. He reached over and grabbed both of Ugetsu’s hands in his; squeezing them gently as he looked intently into his lover’s eyes.

“You need to trust me on this, Ugetsu,” G replied softly. Ugetsu hung his head.

After that, Ugetsu had (reluctantly) agreed to give G more space. They still shared a room, and they still slept together (G couldn’t imagine being _completely_ cut off from his lover, after all), but G almost never saw the rain guardian during the day. He usually skipped breakfast in favor of training outside with his bow. He would train until it got dark, and then he would go back inside for a huge dinner. Because he hadn’t eaten well in the last few weeks, his appetite was larger than usual.

By the time the fight with Alaude was only a few days away, G was starting to panic. Even though he trained every day, he never felt like he improved. He would still occasionally miss his mark, and his reflexes were still slow.

“Fuck!” G’s arrow had missed his make-shift target, and lay broken on the grass next to it. G panted as he tried to control his frustrated anger.

Throwing his bow to the ground, G sank to his knees. He looked at his hands, which had been calloused from many hours of stringing his bow. He clenched them tightly, his body slightly shaking from anger and despair.

He was still a weakling. He couldn’t beat Alaude like this. The cloud guardian would kill him, and G would never be able to prove himself worthy as the right-hand man of the Vongola Family. And what would he say to Ugetsu? G had promised himself that he would make it up to Ugetsu for this time apart, and he’d come back and prove himself of the rain guardian’s love, too.

But he was just too damn weak.

Footsteps behind him made G turn around. He found himself looking into the face of Ugetsu, who was smiling sadly. G gaped at him for a moment as the rain guardian sat next to him, unable to process why he was there.

“Ugetsu, I thought I told you-?”

“I know what you told me, G,” Ugetsu interrupted, placing a finger against G’s lips. G could only narrow his eyes and remain quiet. “But I’ve been thinking… I know I can’t be your crutch forever, but surely there’s another way to get strong without our separation?”

G’s eyes widened as Ugetsu looked down at his lap; the sad smile still on his face. The idea had never occurred to him before. He had just assumed that he had to stay away from Ugetsu before he could get strong, before he could let himself focus on their relationship.

“I want to help you, G.” Ugetsu looked up and smiled slightly as he reached up to gently stroke G’s cheek. “I don’t want to be viewed as something that’s going to be a burden for you. I want to support you as you grow stronger. ”

Ugetsu leaned forward and placed a soft, loving kiss on G’s lips.

“I don’t want to lose you after everything we’ve been through,” Ugetsu murmured against G’s lips when they parted for air, “I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I still want to be with you; just like you hopefully still want to be with me.”

That last sentence had been like a punch in the gut for G. Had he really been so distant as to make Ugetsu believe he didn’t want to be with him anymore? Instantly, guilt flooded over G and he realized that he had been selfish again. He’d never thought about Ugetsu’s feelings, and he’d never even tried to find a way to be around Ugetsu without using him as a crutch.

G knew he owed it to his lover to try now.

He leaned forward and brought Ugetsu’s lips into a passionate kiss, hopefully portraying how much G loved the other in a way that he could never express using words. When they broke for air again, G looked deeply into his lover’s eyes.

“Of course I still want to be with you, idiot.”

The words brought a bright smile to Ugetsu’s slightly swollen lips; one that G couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen. G tentatively reached for Ugetsu’s hands.

“But… how are you going to support me without keeping your distance?” G’s mind was blank, and, since Ugetsu seemed to have been thinking about it a lot, he hoped that his lover had some ideas.

Ugetsu seemed to ponder this for a moment, before his face lit up with an idea.

“Well, your reflexes suck, so we could practice hand-to-hand combat together to improve that. After all, you may be using more close-range attacks with Alaude than you would long-range anyway,” Ugetsu explained.

G pouted at Ugetsu’s teasing insult to his reflexes (even though he knew it was true), so he slapped the other lightly in the head before standing up and stretching. Leaving his bow where it lay on the grass, G reached out his hand to Ugetsu.

“Well, let’s get started then!”

 

\--

 

G made his way to the courtyard, where Knuckle had told him Alaude would be waiting. He was alone, since he had asked Ugetsu to make himself scarce. G needed to face this on his own (and he also didn’t want his boyfriend to witness him getting his butt kicked). Of course, the courtyard was empty when G arrived with his bow and bag of arrows strapped on his back, and the gun he used to use in his pocket as a backup, making G scoff and kick some dust with his boot.

Leave it to Alaude to be fashionably late.

Suddenly, the thought occurred to G that Alaude may not specifically say when the fight would be starting. He could just attack him at any moment.

Alert now, G unstrapped his bow and strung an arrow, posing it at the ready in case Alaude launched a surprise attack. He slowly scanned his surroundings; his body tense as he prepared himself for anything Alaude might try to pull. However, nothing moved. There wasn’t even a wind stirring.

G was about to relax his arm when a snort came from behind him.

He whirled around, proud of himself for not tripping over his feet (like he once had when he had been training with Ugetsu). Behind him stood Alaude, an amused smirk on his face; seemingly unconcerned that G was now pointing his arrow at him. Even if Alaude looked defenseless, G wasn’t going to relax around the head of the CEDEF.

“Come on, G; if I was going to attack you, I wouldn’t have made a noise,” Alaude scoffed as he retreated to the other side of the courtyard. He took his handcuffs out of his pocket and threw off his overcoat. Underneath, he was wearing a dark gray dress shirt and a black tie. To match his shirt, he wore dark gray slacks. G’s eyebrows rose slightly; he’d never seen Alaude take off his beloved jacket before. It also slightly pissed him off that Alaude was cocky enough to wear something fancy; like he knew he wasn’t going to get any dirt or blood on his clothes.

G suddenly began to feel uneasy as he and Alaude just eyed each other. Alaude could very well kill him easily. Everyone knew that Alaude could take down a mass horde of enemies, and even Daemon had once admitted that Alaude was the strongest in the Vongola Family.

As G was calculating his chances of survival, Alaude suddenly lunged forward. G was barely able to snap out of his thoughts in time to dodge Alaude’s tackle, causing him to stumble as he fell out of the way. Shit! He should’ve been paying more attention!

Forcing himself to focus, G tried to pinpoint where the speedy Alaude would move next as he prepared to fire his arrow. G had never targeted someone as fast as Alaude, so he needed to use his utmost concentration if he was going to get a hit in.

As Alaude zoomed towards him, G saw his chance. Alaude’s arm moved as he prepared to throw his handcuffs; causing his body to become slightly off balanced as he ran.

Aiming, G fired. Red flames immediately engulfed the arrow as it sprang from the bow; causing G to jump back in shock as the flame touched his heat-sensitive cheek. G stared, flabbergasted, at his flaming arrow; momentarily distracted. That had never happened before. How the hell did he light his arrow on fire?!

Hoping that the burning arrow would surprise Alaude, too, G watched in anticipation as the flame arrow shot at the cloud guardian.

However, Alaude had easily seen the move coming; with how long G had taken to calculate it. He easily sidestepped G’s flaming arrow, and it continued onwards until it hit a rock on the far side of the courtyard. To G’s relief, the flame died out as the arrow flopped lamely onto the stone-covered ground. Giotto would’ve killed him if he’d caused a fire and burnt the shack down.

“So you figured out how to use your flames? Impressive!” Alaude commented as G realized, too late, that he’d lost his focus again.

The cloud guardian slammed into G, using his left knee to knock G’s bow out of his hand. G swore as his bow went skidding off into a bush. He’d been careless! But what did Alaude mean by, “figured out how to use his flames,”? Did he know why G’s arrow had caught on fire?

As Alaude knocked him onto the ground, G thought fast. Just as Ugetsu predicted, he’d have to rely on close-range combat. In this situation, his gun was useless. G grabbed Alaude’s arm, as it came closer to strike him with the handcuffs, and pinned it behind Alaude’s back in an almost perfect hammerlock. He then used his legs, and as much force as he could muster, to turn the two of them over so that G was now pinning Alaude to the ground.

However, Alaude was obviously not new to this move either. Before G could get an effective hold on Alaude, so as to properly pin him down, Alaude had freed his legs and used them to kick G in the gut. He used enough power to not only knock the air out of the storm guardian; but it also sent him flying to the other end of the courtyard.

G grunted as he landed hard on his elbow, blood welling in his mouth from when he had apparently bit his tongue. As G struggled to stand (and ignore the raging pain in his arm), Alaude was coming at him again.

However, what he saw made G wonder if he’d hit his head as well.

Alaude was running towards him with not one, but _two_ pairs of handcuffs. G could’ve sworn Alaude had had only one pair on his person, and he hadn’t had time to go back to his coat to get another pair… But that wasn’t even the strangest part. What had G wondering if he should check into the hospital for brain damage was that Alaude’s two pairs of handcuffs were sprouting _purple flames._ G was pretty sure that fire wasn’t purple, and he was also sure that Alaude shouldn’t be able to hold his metal handcuffs if they were on fire.

At that moment, G decided that Alaude wasn’t human. It was either that, or he really needed to start seeing a psychiatrist.

He also decided that now wasn’t the time to think about that. He’d ask Alaude about the flames later. If he was still alive.

Forcing himself out of his thoughts, G struggled into a kneeling position and pulled out his gun. That, luckily, hadn’t been dislodged from his person when Alaude had sent him flying across the clearing.

Almost immediately, G felt more confident and at ease. Though he loved the bow that Giotto had gotten him, G’s primary weapon would always be his gun. He’d learned how to shoot the thing when he was nine, and it had been his only source of survival many times over.

And it was his only hope now.

As Alaude came running at him again, G felt himself slip into his old marksman habits as he aimed for the fast cloud guardian. He shot multiple times; only ever aiming for Alaude’s arms or legs. The whole point of this battle was to prove that he could win without killing, and goddammit, he was going to give it his best shot!

However, Alaude was somehow able to dodge all of G’s bullets as he ran at a godly speed. Alaude was definitely not human. Before G could get more shots in, Alaude was upon him.

And suddenly, he only had one flaming handcuff. But it was a _huge_ flaming handcuff. Its circumference was about as wide as a kiddy pool, and Alaude was swinging the dangerous thing over his head like a lasso. Too late, G realized what Alaude was trying to do; and he tried to scramble to his feet and run off.

Yet he was too slow, and Alaude tossed his flaming handcuff. It flew around G’s head, and G thought for a fleeting moment that Alaude had missed and he’d just be able to step out when the thing fell to the ground. Suddenly, however, the handcuff started shrinking until it was as small as a dog collar. It stayed snug around his neck, causing G to choke and fall to the ground as he brought up his hands to try and tug the handcuff off of him. Amazingly, G couldn’t feel the heat of the flames on his neck as he suffocated. Was it an illusion…?

“I wouldn’t tug that if I were you.” Alaude was suddenly above him, looking down at him with a bored expression. G growled, which only caused his throat to burn from its constriction. He coughed as Alaude pulled him up by the handcuff. G stared into Alaude’s eyes with grim resignation.

He’d lost. Even though he’d trained so hard, even though he’d tried his best, he’d lost. And he hadn’t even entertained Alaude; let alone leave a single scratch on him. He was utterly useless, and he knew that Alaude had every right to kill him. He wasn’t worth it. He mentally apologized to Ugetsu, wishing he could say that he loved him one more time as he closed his eyes and waited for the end to come.

But it never did. Instead of the handcuff growing even smaller, and constricting his throat until he couldn’t breathe, the handcuff loosened until it was once again as wide as a kiddy pool. G fell to the ground, coughing and rubbing his sore neck. He looked up at Alaude in astonishment.

Alaude was walking back across the clearing to where he’d thrown his jacket. He stooped down to pick it up before he stood again, stuffing his single pair of handcuffs into his pocket as he put on the jacket. G thought he’d go crazy from the increasing and decreasing amount of handcuffs that Alaude had.

Alaude strolled back over to where G was still collapsed, his hands in his pockets.

“The family will fall apart if the guardians resort to killing each other,” Alaude remarked, looking down at G with his light blue eyes. G thought he saw a flash of frustration in them. “We need you to be a strong right-hand man so that we can pull ourselves back together. Giotto can’t do everything.”

Before G could respond, Alaude was walking away with one parting sentence.

“Pick up this little family and mend it back together before everything is destroyed.”

G watched the cloud guardian retreat, Alaude’s words floating around in his head. Alaude really trusted G to be able to bring the family back together? Sure, he was the one who’d caused all of the problems in the first place, but he had a horrible temper sometimes, and he was still weak compared to Alaude.

He shook his head, deciding that he didn’t have to dwell on this now. When the time came, G hoped that he would know what to do.

It was only until after Alaude was long gone that G realized that he forgot to ask him about the flames.


	10. Ugetsu

Ugetsu didn’t know it was possible to miss someone this much.

Every day the rain guardian saw his beloved, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a meaningful moment with G. The storm guardian had been depressed for the longest time and, when he finally snapped out of it, he didn’t want to be around Ugetsu. Sure, they slept in the same bed still, but G was usually out immediately, and just cuddling into the storm guardian’s side wasn’t enough for Ugetsu anymore. It was incredibly painful to be so close to his lover, and yet be unable to hold him, kiss him, or do anything with him!

It was even worse than when Ugetsu was in Japan and G was in Italy. At least then he knew that there was a reason for not being able to hold his lover. Now, he could, but, at the same time, he couldn’t. And he didn’t really know why.

It broke his heart.

Ugetsu took a deep breath and wiped forming tears from his eyes with his sleeve. It had been a bit better recently, after G had allowed Ugetsu to train with him. But, even then, G was more focused on the upcoming battle with Alaude than he was with him…

Shaking his head, Ugetsu tried to push his selfish thoughts out of his mind. Of _course_ his lover was focused on the fight with Alaude; it was a life or death situation. But sometimes the troubled rain guardian wondered if G really did want him by his side anymore…

Sighing, Ugetsu firmly pushed his troubled thoughts of his lover out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. G was off facing Alaude and, meanwhile, the rain guardian had dedicating himself to finding Giotto.

Ugetsu had been furious with the Vongola boss, so he hadn’t really noticed, but, at some point, Giotto had gone missing. The guardians kept to themselves so much these days that no one had seen Giotto leave, or had been told that Giotto was going somewhere. In other words, no one knew where he was.

So, since the other guardians seemed to be preoccupied with their own problems, Ugetsu laid it on himself to go out and find their missing sky guardian. Besides, Ugetsu needed to apologize to his friend for being so unfair. After a lot of thinking, the rain guardian had decided that Giotto would never wish harm on his family, and that he was probably beating himself up over G’s depression without Ugetsu’s help.

And Ugetsu was mad at himself for blaming his friend in the first place. He was supposed to be the soothing rain that made everything better but, instead, he had let his confused emotions concerning G get in the way and made everything worse. Now Giotto was spiraling into despair, and everyone else was slowly following him under.

He knew that he owed it to his friend, and the Vongola, to bring him back out of his despair now.

Though it wasn’t easy. Deep inside, Ugetsu was ashamed to know that he still blamed Giotto for G’s depression. Rationally, he knew that it hadn’t really been Giotto’s fault that G had despaired from his murder, but his heart couldn’t forgive the fact that G had been hurt so deeply. He cared about the storm guardian too much. And Ugetsu had felt nothing but pain while he was trying to take care of the depressed G. The only way he could stay sane during that time was to focus his pain into anger by blaming Giotto; trying to convince himself that G wouldn’t have been hurt if it wasn’t for the sky guardian. Now, it was hard to shake himself of that thought after Ugetsu had buried it so deep inside of him.

But Ugetsu couldn’t think like that anymore. G was better, and he didn’t blame Giotto, so Ugetsu didn’t have a right to either. But he also knew that the pain was still there, and he wouldn’t truly be able to forgive his friend until he talked to Giotto. They had needed to for a long time now.

And so, Ugetsu knew that he had to be the one to look for the Vongola boss.

Since no one else appeared to know, Ugetsu knew that his best bet on finding his boss was to go talk to Cozart. Ugetsu had never met the man, but he’d heard stories from both Giotto and G, and knew that the Vongola boss was extremely close to the Shimon boss. If Giotto was going to go out and talk to anyone, it would be Cozart.

Leaving the shack and heading for Cozart’s mansion, Ugetsu realized that he’d worn the perfect shoes for the occasion as his traditional geta sloshed through the puddles from when it had apparently rained earlier in the day. As he walked, he reflected shamefully on what he’d done to find out where Cozart lived.

He’d never even met the Shimon boss, let alone been to his house, and G hadn’t either. Giotto had never discussed where the Shimon Family kept their hideaway, so the rain guardian had had to snoop around to find an address to the mansion. He was ashamed to admit that he had read some of Giotto’s letters to find the return address for Cozart Shimon. Ugetsu felt that it was incredibly wrong to read someone else’s mail (after all, he wouldn’t be too happy, and slightly embarrassed, if anyone had read the letters he’d written G all those years ago!), but he would never tell a soul, and he hoped Giotto would never find out.

With the address now ingrained in his mind, Ugetsu turned himself in the direction of Cozart’s mansion.

He couldn’t help but be incredibly curious of Cozart’s character. He had seemed like a joyous person from his letters to Giotto, and both Giotto and G were fond of him. Ugetsu was sure that he would like him, too. He just wished that he was visiting the other under happier circumstances.

By the time the rain guardian reached the mansion, the sun was starting to poke out from behind the cloud cover that had earlier suggested that it would rain again. It was starting to become hot, though it had just been icy cold earlier. Ugetsu sighed, thinking that he’d never understand Italian weather, and wished that he hadn’t decided to wear his traditional robes today.

He hit the doorbell of Cozart’s mansion with his thumb and, as he waited, took off his robe and tall hat. Underneath, Ugetsu wore a light black T-shirt that clung loosely to his torso and comfy blue sweats that G had bought for him a long time ago. The rain guardian let his long hair fall out of the messy bun that he’d had it in and retied it up into a high ponytail. Making sure his flute didn’t fall out of his sleeve, Ugetsu folded up his robe and stored it within his hat.

By the time he had finished, Cozart had answered the door.

What Ugetsu saw surprised him. From what little he knew of the man, Ugetsu had expected Cozart to be the type that always smiled and had a good time. That wasn’t at all how the man in front of him looked.

This man looked like he’d died in a hole somewhere and had just resurrected. His hair was tangled and messy, and his clothes had dirt splotches and other stains on them; like Cozart had worn the same outfit for several days without washing and had spilled every substance known to man on it. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had heavy bags under his eyes, making it obvious that he hadn’t slept in a while. His face was also slightly slim, like he hadn’t eaten in days. In short, he looked like a malnutrition skeleton.

“C-Cozart Shimon…?” Ugetsu inquired, startled. Had he completely misjudged this man’s character?

As the man’s eyes focused on Ugetsu, they slowly widened as he seemed to recognize the man standing before him.

“A-are you one of Giotto’s guardians?!” The man cried, almost desperately, as he reached out to clutch at Ugetsu’s arm. The rain guardian flinched back in shock, carefully studying the other’s bloodshot eyes. What had happened to put him in this kind of state?

“Um… Yes, I am Ugetsu Asari, Giotto’s rain guardian…” Ugetsu stated uncertainly. He couldn’t help but feel slightly unnerved by Cozart. If this man really was Cozart. He had never confirmed it.

As if sensing Ugetsu’s discomfort, Cozart (maybe) released his grip from Ugetsu’s arm and looked down at the ground for a moment. He shook as he stood there; making Ugetsu wonder in alarm if the other was going to start crying. Just as he wondering if he should try to comfort the other, though, Cozart looked up again with an exhausted smile.

“Please forgive me… I seem to have forgotten my manners. My name is Cozart Shimon; it’s a pleasure to meet you.” With that, Cozart held out his boney hand.

Ugetsu took the hand offered to him with a relieved smile. This was much better. The rain guardian knew who to handle this as he gently shook the other man’s (who was now confirmed to be Cozart) hand.

Once the handshake was done with, Cozart stepped back and gestured for Ugetsu to go into the mansion.

“Please, won’t you come in? We have many things to discuss,” Cozart stated with a sheepish smile.

Ugetsu hesitated for a moment, wondering if the mansion was in the same sort of condition as Cozart, but decided to go in anyway. He didn’t want to be rude, and Cozart seemed to have something important to tell him. Besides, the whole point of coming here was to see if he could find Giotto, and he couldn’t do that if he didn’t talk with Cozart.

When Ugetsu entered the mansion, he couldn’t help but notice the disarray of the home. A chair was knocked on the ground for some reason, and the lamp shade had fallen off the lamp and now sat rejected on the floor. A cup of tea had been spilled and was now dripping onto the carpet as the cup lay on its side; unattended. Tattered pieces of what appeared to be cloth lay all over the place, and Ugetsu had stepped on something sticky earlier which was now stuck uncomfortably to his shoe and made squishing noises as he walked.

However, the rain guardian made no comment on the condition of the house and just took a seat when he was told to.

“Excuse the mess… I haven’t really been myself lately…” Cozart explained as he stared at the tea dripping onto the carpet. He hovered over it for a moment, looking like he was wondering if he should clean it up or not, before deciding against it and taking a seat across from Ugetsu. “I would make you some tea, but I’m not sure if I have any clean cups…”

“It is alright,” Ugetsu quickly cut in, sending the other a reassuring smile. The rain guardian didn’t want to make Cozart embarrassed or ashamed by the condition of his home. “It is too hot for tea, anyway.”

Cozart grinned and, to Ugetsu’s surprise, actually laughed a little.

“I can tell you’re Giotto’s guardian!” He exclaimed merrily, before his smile dripped off his face and his demeanor became serious. “Speaking of Giotto… Did he make it safely home?”

Ugetsu was surprised to suddenly be thrown into the main topic of his coming, but he was also glad. He didn’t know how long Cozart would last if they had wasted time on small chitchat.

“No…” Ugetsu shook his head sadly. “No one is quite sure when he left, but, wherever he went, he has not returned… Are you saying that he came here?”

Cozart nodded, clutching at his knees so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He seemed to be beating himself up over something, and Ugetsu suddenly had the insane idea that it was his fault. After all, he had seen this scene way too commonly at home…

“Yes…” Cozart whispered, snapping the rain guardian out of his thoughts. “He came here… oh, when was it? Two days ago? Something like that… Anyway, he came here to tell me that his family was falling apart and I… I tried to comfort him, because he was really beating himself up over it, you know? But… I said something that I shouldn’t have, and he ran off…”

Cozart suddenly looked up at Ugetsu desperately.

“He wasn’t in his right state of mind, so who knows what’s happened to him!! Please… please, you have to find him and make him see that it’s not his fault that the family fell apart, and that everyone doesn’t hate him!” That last part made Ugetsu wince with guilt and shame.

“Also…” Cozart clenched his knees even tighter. “Tell Giotto I’m sorry… I didn’t mean for what I said to hurt him so deeply… And I want him to know that I’m always here to help him when he needs it.”

Ugetsu kept silent, nodding to show he’d heard, as he drifted into his own thoughts. Giotto wasn’t in his right state of mind, and he’d been beating himself up? Ugetsu felt immense guilt, knowing that a lot of those feelings were because of the blame that the rain guardian had placed on Giotto. And now, because of that, Cozart had been hurt and was reduced to this sad skeleton.

It really all had been Ugetsu’s fault.

With new determination building in him, Ugetsu stood abruptly and looked down at the mess that was Cozart.

“I am going to find Giotto, and I will make him see all of that. It was my fault that he became like that, so now it is my duty to help him out of that state of mind. So please, Cozart, do not beat yourself up too. You were only trying to help, and for that I am extremely grateful.”

Out of a habit that he’d never really broken, Ugetsu bowed to the man sitting before him.

“Thank you for giving me a clue as to where I can find Giotto. And I promise to bring him back to how he was before.”

Cozart blinked, shock written all over his face. But then a smile appeared on his face, a sad, but relieved, smile. He stood and awkwardly bowed back to Ugetsu, laughing a little.

“Ugetsu, I should be thanking you! I wish you all of the luck with your family, and I hope that you can continue to come to me in the future.” Cozart scratched the back of his head in a sheepish manner as both men stood up from their bows.

“I am sure we will,” Ugetsu stated truthfully, a small smile coming onto his lips.

 

\--

 

Cozart looked much better when Ugetsu finally left the Shimon boss’ mansion. The rain guardian could only assume that he was relieved that Ugetsu would be helping to find Giotto and hoped for Giotto’s forgiveness. Ugetsu was glad that he could help the man who was such a close friend to the Vongola.

But now, where in the world was Giotto?

Ugetsu didn’t even know where to begin. Cozart had told him that the Vongola boss had turned right when he’d left the mansion, but, as Ugetsu began to walk right, he realized how hopeless his search was going to be. There were so many places along the road where Giotto could’ve turned off and dashed in another direction.

What hope did he have of finding Giotto?

As Ugetsu walked along in despair, glancing down each side street and small alleyway he came across to make sure Giotto hadn’t gone down that way, he couldn’t help but drift into his own thoughts. What would he say to Giotto if, and when, he found him? Ugetsu’s emotions were so jumbled at the moment that he wasn’t quite sure how he thought of his old friend anymore.

Well, one thing was for sure. Ugetsu had to apologize to Giotto for Cozart.

Nodding, as he decided to make that his first topic of conversation, Ugetsu almost missed a flash of gold in the entrance of a small alleyway that was practically invisible. The rain guardian stopped, curiosity making him move closer to inspect the gold thing he had seen. When he was close enough to identify the object, he gasped in shock and hurried over to pick it up; to make sure it was really what he had seen.

What had been sitting in the dirt, wet with rain, was Giotto’s gold pocket watch. Sure enough, as Ugetsu turned the watch over, the Vongola’s insignia shown up from the face of the watch. It was unmistakable; with the crown over the clam necklace and the ribbon that stated “VONGOLA”, all split through the middle by a staff.

Ugetsu’s heart began to beat fast. Giotto had been down this way! But what concerned the rain guardian the most, as he began running down the tiny alleyway, was the fact that Giotto had dropped the watch in the first place.

The pocket watches had been a gift from Giotto to symbolize their friendship. Everyone had one, even that crazy Daemon Spade. Ugetsu knew that Giotto treasured their friendship more than his own life, so how could the sky guardian ever drop such a valuable object in the mud?

Ugetsu swallowed. Maybe Giotto’s mental condition had been worse than Cozart had let on.

As the rain guardian continued to run on, stuffing the pocket watch into his pants pocket, he started to hear the sounds of a scuffle. Men were shouting, and the sound of someone kicking something filled Ugetsu’s ears. Grunts of pain quietly sounded through the brief silences, before the kicking would resume once more.

Worried about what was happening, Ugetsu turned down another small alleyway to see a group of three men kicking a huddled figure. The man that appeared to be the leader had a square-like face with a thick nose and pointy black hair. He was a big guy, and he had muscles that proved that he’d lived his whole life out on the streets. The other guys around him were scrawnier, but they were obviously street-dwellers as well. And now they were kicking…

… Giotto?!

Ugetsu blinked in shock for a moment, as he stood rooted to the spot. As much as he tried to tell himself that he must be seeing things, that there was no way Giotto was getting beaten up by some random thugs, there was the Vongola boss; cuddling into a ball as he tried to defend himself. His yellow hair was tangled and dotted with twigs, while his favorite black cloak had been coated with dirt and blood.

However, the picture didn’t make sense in Ugetsu’s mind. Giotto could easily take out these thugs, so how come he wasn’t attacking back in self-defense? Could it be that he thought he deserved it?

Ugetsu unfroze and moved towards the men. Whatever confused emotions that he had had about Giotto were completely pushed out of the rain guardian’s mind. All that he knew now was that his friend was being hurt, and Ugetsu would never allow that.

“Hey, do you not think that enough is enough?” Ugetsu muttered darkly as he stopped a few paces away from the thugs.

The leader stopped kicking Giotto for a moment and looked up at the rain guardian with an annoyed look on his face. He signaled at the other men, who stopped kicking Giotto as well and turned to face Ugetsu. The leader cracked his knuckles and his neck as he slowly approached Ugetsu.

“Oi, we don’t take lightly to fellas interrupting us,” he growled maliciously. Suddenly, a sadistic smirk twisted onto his face. “We outta teach you a lesson!”

As the thugs sluggishly threw themselves at him, Ugetsu took a step back and whipped out his only long sword; the blade slicing cleanly (but lightly, as he only used the back end of his sword) through the leader’s torso. Using his free hand, Ugetsu pulled out two of his short swords and threw them like daggers at the other two men. They landed neatly; one in each man’s leg. As the bullies fell to the ground, crying in pain, Ugetsu used the back end of his sword again to knock all three men unconscious. He then cleaned the blood off of his long sword before sliding it back into its sheath. He did the same with the smaller ones as he gently pulled them out of the two scrawnier men’s legs.

Finally, after all of that had been taken care of, Ugetsu turned his attention to Giotto.

The Vongola boss had pulled himself into a sitting position and was panting heavily as he leaned back against a dumpster. Blood was dribbling down his face from a gash on his forehead, but his other wounds were obscured by his coat, so Ugetsu couldn’t tell how badly the other was hurt.

Moving forward slowly, Ugetsu kneeled in front of his friend.

“Are you alright?”

For some reason, the rain guardian’s question made Giotto chuckle, which quickly turned into a pained cough. Ugetsu put his hand lightly on the other’s back, looking at Giotto in concern. Was Giotto still not in a stable mental condition?

“Ugetsu…” Giotto breathed out when he stopped coughing, a pained smile on his face. “This is quite pathetic, isn’t it? The great Vongola boss getting beaten up by a group of lowly thugs.”

Ugetsu smiled a little, deciding that Giotto must be feeling alright if he was lively enough to make a joke of the matter. But his smile faded instantly as he began to think about everything that he wanted to say to Giotto.

“Why did you let them do it?” Ugetsu inquired quietly. “You could have easily fended them off.”

Giotto closed his eyes briefly, his smile fading as well. For a moment, the rain guardian worried that the other would pass out, but Giotto opened his eyes again and looked down at the ground. His expression was painful, and Ugetsu could hardly bare to look at it.

“I figured that… Maybe if I let myself get as hurt as G did, you would forgive me…”

Ugetsu didn’t think at all when he found himself throwing his hand back and slapping Giotto in the face. The Vongola’s boss head snapped to the side, his eyes wide with shock when he looked up at Ugetsu. The rain guardian had angry tears in his eyes, and he began to shake with guilt.

“You idiotic man… How could you ever think that I would be happy with you hurting yourself?” Ugetsu looked down at his hands as he clenched them tightly into fists.

To Ugetsu’s total surprise, Giotto actually started laughing; his frame shaking with the force of his laughter.

“I think G has rubbed off on you,” Giotto teased, and a soft smile came onto his face as he continued. “I haven’t been thinking clearly this last month… The family is falling apart, and I couldn’t do anything. I lost confidence in myself, and started believing crazy things like that. Getting beat up made me realize something, though.”

Giotto looked up at Ugetsu.

“If I’m going to die, I want to be remembered as your guys’ friend. Not as someone who was weak and couldn’t even protect those that he cares about. I want to have fun memories with you guys, like when we all used to watch the World Cup together. If I want to get that future, I have to be strong enough to fight for it. And we have to do it together. We have to have unity.

“I want to ask for your forgiveness, Ugetsu.” Giotto picked some dirt out from under his nails. “I never meant to hurt G that way, and I promise to get strong enough so that none of you ever have to go through that ever again.”

Ugetsu thought back to the moment when he had first recognized that it was Giotto getting kicked by those thugs. He hadn’t thought at all about how much he’d hated the other, or about how much he had been hurting. All he had thought was that he wanted to protect his _friend_. It was then that the rain guardian had realized that he could never really hate Giotto. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ugetsu had always felt kinship and loyalty to the Vongola boss.

“Giotto… it is I who should be asking for your forgiveness. It was unfair and irrational of me to blame you for what happened to G.” Ugetsu’s voice started to shake as he released all of the pain that he had locked away for so long. “I-I just… everything _hurt_. Seeing G like that was almost too much to bear. The only way to stay sane w-was… to focus the pain into anger, and I-I am so sorry, Giotto!”

Ugetsu began to break down. All of the tears and hurt that he had held back began to flow and he could do nothing but cry. Giotto leaned forward and gave his rain guardian an awkward hug as he let Ugetsu cry on his shoulder.

“Let’s just put it behind us, alright?” Giotto whispered, and Ugetsu smiled a little through his tears as he nodded in agreement.

It took a while for Ugetsu to calm down. He had had so much pain that he’d kept in for so long that the tears wouldn’t stop. When he did stop crying, though, he decided that it was time to fulfill the promise he’d made to Cozart.

“Cozart wanted me to tell you that he was sorry that he hurt you, and he wanted you to know that he’ll always be there when you need him,” Ugetsu recited as he leaned back onto his knees. He wiped his eyes with his fists to clear the last of the tears as he waited for Giotto to answer.

“… I hurt Cozart very deeply,” Giotto finally murmured, his eyes downcast. “I will have to apologize… Thank you for checking on him, Ugetsu. Was he doing alright?”

Ugetsu paused, wondering if he should tell the truth. Giotto seemed to be finally coming to peace with his actions, and the rain guardian didn’t want to make the Vongola boss shoulder more guilt with what he had reduced Cozart to.

“He was doing well when I left him,” Ugetsu answered carefully. Giotto nodded as he chewed on his lip, seeming to understand what Ugetsu was implying. But he shook himself and smiled at his rain guardian.

“Let’s go home, shall we?”

 

\--

 

Ugetsu was in high spirits when he came home after finding Giotto and had returned the pocket watch to him (Giotto had been shocked and extremely grateful that he hadn’t lost the precious watch), but his stomach was twisting into nervous knots as he searched for his lover. After he had resolved everything with Giotto, the rain guardian knew that it was time to address his troubled relationship with G.

The rain guardian eventually found his lover sitting outside in the swing bench that Lampo had bought for himself. Ugetsu approached cautiously; G seemed to be deep in thought, and the rain guardian didn’t want to disturb or startle him.

He sat down next to G, who jumped a little before looking over and relaxing when he saw who it was. Ugetsu hoped that that was a reassuring sign.

“How did it go?” Ugetsu asked softly, referring to G’s battle with Alaude. G exhaled loudly as he looked up into the sky.

“I lost, but that bastard let me live anyway,” he mumbled, sounding far away. Ugetsu waited patiently to see if G would continue but, when he didn’t, he followed G’s gaze into the sky.

“G, I… I want to know where I stand with you now.” Ugetsu stared directly into G’s eyes as the other turned to look at him, appearing startled by the question. He seemed to be flustered, as his mouth opened and closed for a little bit before he turned his gaze down to his lap.

“… I don’t deserve you.” G’s voice was so quiet that Ugetsu almost didn’t hear him.

Ugetsu’s heart swelled with pain as he realized what would come next. G would cut it off, _everything_ that they had worked so hard for. He would leave Ugetsu cold and lonely on this bench and things would never be the same ever again. Ugetsu couldn’t let that happen, he would _die_ if he lost G!

“How can you say that?! I-!”

G was suddenly kissing Ugetsu, effectively shutting him up, and the rain guardian gasped in surprise. However, the kiss ended before his brain could process what was going on, and the confused rain guardian could only stare down at G with his mouth wide open.

“You didn’t let me finish,” the storm guardian snapped, “don’t jump to fucking conclusions like that.”

Ugetsu was still confused, but he kept his mouth shut as he waited for G to continue. What more did G have to say? And why had he kissed him if he was just going to break off their relationship?

“What I was going to say was that I don’t deserve you, because I’ve been a god awful boyfriend lately, but I still want to be by your side,” G snapped before he seemed to lose his confidence and started mumbling to the bench they were sitting on. “I-I can’t live without you, and I hope that you still want to be with me…”

Ugetsu couldn’t believe his ears, and he sat there stunned. He couldn’t seem to process what was being said to him, and he spoke before he really thought about it.

“You… you are not going to break up with me?”

“O-of course not, you idiot!” G stuttered, getting flustered again. “I’m not just going to throw away everything that we worked so damn hard for!”

He looked down, and Ugetsu couldn’t believe it when he saw a heavy blush dusting the other’s cheeks.

“B-besides… I-I love you, so I couldn’t just walk out like that…”

The pain that had flooded Ugetsu’s heart was suddenly flushed out by an overwhelming feeling of love for the man sitting in front of him. G had never told him that he loved him before, and to hear it now was almost too much for Ugetsu to bear. He thought he might pass out from happiness.

Tackling the other, Ugetsu smothered G in a huge hug as he pushed him down onto the bench. The happy rain guardian nuzzled his face into G’s neck, sighing as he felt the roughness of G’s scar against his face and smelled the other’s smoky scent.

It made him feel at home like nothing else could.

G grunted as he was smothered, before adjusting to the position and resting his hand on Ugetsu’s side in a semi-hug. He laid his head against Ugetsu’s, and the rain guardian could hear the other sigh softly in content.

“I love you,” Ugetsu murmured as he kissed G’s neck lightly. He couldn’t hold back bubbly laughter as he felt the other shiver under him. He knew that G was incredibly ticklish on his neck.

“F-fuck you,” G muttered back, his cheeks flushing again. Ugetsu laughed.

As they laid together, neither one feeling the need to speak, Ugetsu decided that everything, at least in that moment, was alright again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay… so, for some reason, none of the Shimon Primo guardians exist, and I really don’t want to have to make up more characters (like I had to with the Vongola Secondo), and since the Shimon guardians don’t really have any point in this story, I’ll just keep them out of the picture and focus on Cozart xD So he’s a lonely old man for this story (not really, lol).   
> I hope you all liked my casual Ugetsu, because I’ve always wanted to write him without all of his traditional garb (except his shoes, haha). After all, the only one who usually sees him like that is G ;D   
> Anyway, I hope this chapter wasn’t too boring; it was pretty heavy with emotions and relations xDD And lookie, I actually used the title in this chapter :9 I thank all who sent kudos, reviewed and are still reading; it gives me the motivation to continue this little story! :’) See you next time!  
> (Yay for long chapters!)


	11. Alaude

Alaude threw his jacket violently on the kitchen table when he returned home from his fight, if it could be called that, with G.

He was pissed.

The whole thing had been an entire waste of his time. At first, he had been looking forward to the battle because G’s determination had excited him. No one had wanted to willingly fight him before, and he had hoped that the proud storm guardian would’ve been able to put up more of a fight.

But he didn’t. Sure, he’d gotten better, and Alaude had to admit that he was impressed by the fact that G had been able to ignite his flames, but he was nowhere near Alaude’s level. And that was just plain annoying. If the cloud guardian was going to be the one stuck with the duty of picking up the pieces of his so called “family”, he should at least be able to get some fun out of it.

And there was another problem: Daemon Spade. The bastard had had the nerve to show up out of the blue, claiming regret for his actions when Elena had died and asking for Giotto’s forgiveness; as well as his original position as mist guardian. Giotto had said yes, of course, but Alaude was steaming with anger and suspicion.

The cloud guardian didn’t trust Daemon Spade one bit. The crazy bastard had been too head-over-heels for Elena, and too outraged when she had died, to just brush it off like it was nothing. Plus, the reappointed mist guardian had returned to the abandoned old adobe which used to be his home, causing Alaude to, unfortunately, have neighbors again. He could tolerate Knuckle, but Daemon was a different story.

The two had never gotten along. Even before Daemon had snapped, they were constantly fighting over some little matter. Alaude liked his peaceful moments alone in the morning, but Daemon would always be up at the same time destroying something. It put Alaude in a cranky mood, and it was worse when he knew that Daemon did it on purpose just to spite him. It didn’t take much at all to set Alaude off, especially when it came to Daemon Spade.

All he wanted to do was choke the bastard to death with his handcuffs.

As the pissy cloud guardian tore off his tie, Knuckle, dressed in a black t-shirt and gray sweats, walked into the room with his bible clasped tightly to his side. Alaude glared at the damn thing.

That was something else. Lately, the cloud guardian’s lover had never let the Bible leave his side. He even fucking took it to _bed_. Something about having God in the bed with them was a major turn-off for Alaude.

The founder of the CEDEF already had enough annoyances to deal with without having fucking unwanted sexual tension. He angrily slammed his tie into the table, slightly cracking the surface.

“Alaude? What’s wrong?” Knuckle questioned, concern coating his voice. “How did the fight with G go?”

Alaude ignored the questions. He was still glaring at the Bible, and, without really thinking about it, he stalked over to Knuckle. The sun guardian flinched as Alaude ripped the stupid book out of his bandaged hands.

“Will you get rid of this fucking thing?” Alaude hissed as his fingers clutched the book so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He was barely containing the urge to rip God in half.

“Alaude! Don’t swear while you’re holding that!” Knuckle exclaimed as he tried to take the book back from the cloud guardian. “And no, I won’t get rid of it! The Vongola needs God’s help now more than ever!”

“The Vongola is beyond help,” Alaude muttered, dark with rage, as he threw the Bible as hard as he could against the wall of their home. As the book hit the wall, the binding snapped and the pages exploded in a cloud of white. Alaude was sick of the weakness of his boyfriend and the family. Why couldn’t anyone learn to stand on their own?! “Don’t you know that God doesn’t even exist?!”

Knuckle looked like he’d been slapped in the face, and his face was white as he rushed over to the piled remains of his precious Bible. Alaude scoffed with anger as the sun guardian kneeled down and picked up a page in his trembling hands.

“Alaude… What have you done…?” Knuckle sounded like he was about to cry.

The cloud guardian stalked out of the room, knowing that he would do worse if he witnessed his lover burst into tears.

 

\--

 

Cold air hit Alaude’s face as he rushed outside, his throat feeling constricted from anger.

He just couldn’t take it anymore. He was sick of everything; he was sick of the Vongola, he was sick of weakness, he was sick of God, and he was sick of what Knuckle expected out of him in their relationship. Didn’t that bastard understand that Alaude liked to be alone, that he detested relying on another being? He obviously hadn’t known what he was getting into when he had agreed to a relationship with the cloud guardian.

Alaude growled. Sometimes he couldn’t even remember why he’d fallen for a fucking priest. More often than not, Knuckle made the cloud guardian feel like he was trapped. He hated feeling like helpless prey.

Distracted by his thoughts and his anger, Alaude almost missed a familiar figure head out of the house neighboring Alaude’s and begin to head up the hill away from the main Vongola shack. Alaude was instantly alert, instinctively reaching for his handcuffs in his coat pocket. It was then that the cloud guardian realized that he’d left his coat in the house when he’d stormed out.

He cursed under his breath, but decided he’d have to go without his weapons as he followed Daemon up the hill. Who knew where the psychotic bastard was going, and Alaude couldn’t afford to miss his chance in tracking him. Deep inside of him, he knew that Daemon was up to no good.

Stealthy as a fox, Alaude stalked Daemon through the grass. Daemon left a trail of destruction behind him, the grass dying and wilting with each of the mist guardian’s footsteps. Alaude had to hold back a snort. He could go home and take a nap and still be able to figure out where Daemon had gone. But he wouldn’t do that. Alaude felt sadistic glee and satisfaction fill his heart at the thought of exposing Daemon as a traitor and being allowed to torture and kill the other as he pleased.

Suddenly, Daemon stopped and Alaude had to dig his heels into the ground to stop himself from rushing the yards that distanced them and slamming his hand into one of the mist guardian’s pressure points. He was too close to discovering the truth to kill the other now.

Once he cleared the dark thoughts from his mind, Alaude surveyed his surroundings.

Daemon had stopped in front of a giant mansion, the pillars sparkling white as the sun’s rays hit them. The mansion had a glorious garden in the front; millions of flowers that Alaude didn’t even bother to remember the names of sprung out from hedged enclosures in a circle formation around a marble fountain. Alaude’s eyes narrowed as he studied the design of the statue in the middle of the fountain. A hooded figure was slicing a knife across a naked man’s throat, and the water was springing out like blood from the man’s neck.

With stinking suspicion, Alaude began to think that he knew exactly where they were.

As Daemon walked into the mansion, Alaude swerved around the building; trying to find a window he could spy through. Even he wasn’t cocky enough to try following Daemon right through the main entrance.

He ducked below a large circular window that was closest to the garden, sitting against the wall for a moment as he formulated his plan. It would be too dangerous to peek through the window for very long, for he would eventually be spotted for sure. No, he’d have to be stealthy.

Carefully, Alaude stretched his neck to see through the window.

Inside, Daemon stood elegantly in the middle of a large room; his fancy boots digging into the bear-skin rug stretched upon the floor. He was bowing politely, his hand over his chest as if he was a butler addressing his master. Alaude’s eyes moved to the left, where he saw a giant mahogany table with stacks upon stacks of paper covering the top. Behind the desk, in a leather chair, sat Ricardo; reclined back as if he were king.

Alaude narrowed his eyes. What was Daemon doing talking to Ricardo? As if he couldn’t guess.

Suddenly Daemon turned toward him, and Alaude shot his head down, though he knew it was too late. He had been spotted.

The surroundings around him shifted. The grass beneath him changed to a cold, stone floor and a small metal cage surrounded Alaude on all sides. Even though he knew it was an illusion, the cloud guardian couldn’t stop the tightness that began to build in his chest.

He hated being trapped.

Through the metal bars of his confinement, Alaude saw himself, though coated in a faded gray tint, standing just outside. The gray Alaude smirked as he pulled handcuffs out of his coat pocket and began spinning them around his pointer finger.

“It’s a shame, Alaude.” The cloud guardian had to suppress a shudder at hearing Daemon’s voice come out of the gray Alaude’s body. Suddenly, purple flames ignited the handcuffs and Alaude’s eyes widened slightly. “You could’ve told us about the flames.”

“How do you know about those?” Alaude growled, his mind trying to focus back on reality. He was sitting on grass, there wasn’t a cage surrounding him…

“Ricardo is very generous,” the gray Alaude hummed. Alaude felt sick just looking at him.

“Traitor,” he hissed, his fingers tightening as they clutched grass. The illusion began to fade until he was sitting up against the wall of the mansion once more, the garden spread out in front of him. However, the gray Alaude still stood before him, a patch of dead grass surrounding his feet.

The gray Alaude laughed.

“What do you think Giotto will do about it?” The gray Alaude’s eyes hardened. “That pathetic excuse of a man doesn’t know how to protect what’s really important.”

“And you think Ricardo will?” Alaude stood up as he glared at Daemon’s illusion. His hand tried to reach for his handcuffs, only to be reminded once more that he’d left his coat at home. Of all days to be forgetful.

“Ricardo won’t let weaklings get in his way.” Suddenly, the gray Alaude was laughing again; sadistic amusement shining in his eyes. “Go on, mighty cloud guardian. Tell Giotto what I’ve done. See if he believes you.”

Alaude glared at the illusion as he took a step forward. Before he could do anything, however, the gray Alaude vanished in a fury of indigo flames. Daemon’s voice whispered through the air.

“Mist can make the clearest of minds lost in confusion.”

 

\--

 

Alaude stomped his way back to the Vongola shack, annoyance pulsing through his blood. He was angry at himself for getting caught so easily and that he’d been practically defenseless against Daemon. He _knew_ that he could beat that psychotic bastard to a pulp, but he’d been unable to do anything.

Daemon’s illusions were getting stronger.

And he’d somehow learned how to use the flames. Ricardo must’ve told him something, but Alaude didn’t understand how the Secondo could know such a thing. Only the CEDEF knew anything about the flames that pulsed through everyone’s bodies, and they were careful about whom they dispatched information to.

Something wasn’t right.

Alaude also couldn’t get something Daemon had said out of his mind. _Ricardo won’t let weaklings get in his way._ His whole life, Alaude had detested people that relied on other beings, and just before he’d started tracking Daemon he’d been pissed about all of the weaklings in his life. The fact that the bastard mist guardian had had the nerve to imply that he was a weakling set Alaude’s blood boiling.

He couldn’t wait to tighten his handcuffs around Daemon’s and Ricardo’s necks.

Barging into Giotto’s office, Alaude glided over to stand right in front of Giotto’s desk. The sky guardian looked up at him in surprise, whatever he’d been working on now forgotten on his desk.

“Alaude? What’s wrong?” Giotto asked curiously. Alaude tried not to think about how Knuckle had asked him that exact same thing only hours before.

“Daemon is a traitor. He’s conspiring with Ricardo.”

Giotto sighed, scratching at his hair.

“Alaude, just because you don’t get along with Daemon doesn’t mean you can just blindly throw out accusations,” the Vongola boss began to lecture.

Alaude didn’t give him the chance to continue. The cloud guardian glared at Giotto before he turned on his heel and stalked out the door. He wasn’t even going to bother. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d known that Daemon was right when he’d said that Giotto wouldn’t believe him. He was too trusting, and blind to the fact that Daemon had changed. Nothing Alaude could say would change his stubborn mind.

Once outside of the Vongola shack, Alaude hesitated before turning towards his home. He wasn’t in the mood to face whatever state Knuckle was in, but he had nowhere else to go and all he really wanted to do was take a nap.

Inside, Alaude was met with Knuckle solemnly packing his things into a small suitcase. Alaude hovered in the doorway, not wanting to make his presence known quite yet. He could see tears running down the ex-boxer’s cheeks.

But, by the way Knuckle stiffened, Alaude could tell that his lover had noticed him. He stopped packing and stared down at his things.

“You’ve changed, Alaude.” Knuckle’s voice was quiet. “You were never this cruel before.”

Alaude narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t being cruel, he was being practical. It wasn’t his fault that Knuckle was a weakling who depended on a non-existent being to solve all of his problems.

“So you’re leaving then.” It wasn’t phrased as a question. Alaude wasn’t stupid, he could read the signs.

Knuckle finally looked at him. His brown eyes were hardened in pain.

“God never intended us to be together.”

Finally Alaude snapped. Silent as a snake, Alaude pushed Knuckle against the wall and pinned him by the neck with his hand. The cloud guardian’s eyes burned with fury as his pent up anger and frustration spilled over. It was better than feeling the pain.

“Why does everything have to be about God to you?” Alaude snarled as he snatched Knuckle’s wrist and tightened his grip. If he didn’t take out his anger somewhere else, he might actually end up strangling Knuckle. “Why did you stay with me if God was so against it?”

Knuckles eyes narrowed and he used his free hand to clutch at the hand that was around his neck. He pushed against Alaude, but the cloud guardian didn’t budge. He was too angry and hurt to budge.

“Because I loved you, Alaude,” Knuckle murmured. “But you obviously don’t love me anymore, if you ever did.”

The words stung more than they should have. Alaude let go of the sun guardian, who coughed and rubbed at his neck. The cloud guardian’s gaze burned into the mark his hand had left on Knuckle’s neck, and he clenched his fists when the mark began to fade. Swallowing his pain, Alaude glared at Knuckle.

“You’re right. I never loved you. It was barely worth the effort to get you into bed.”

It had the desired effect. Knuckle looked as if he had been punched in the gut before his gaze hardened and he stood up from the wall; his entire body trembling.

“I see. Then I won’t waste your effort anymore.” Knuckle’s voice wavered and Alaude saw doubt shimmer in his eyes before the sun guardian pushed it away. He marched over to his suitcase, grabbed it, and headed for the door.

Within moments, Knuckle was gone.

Alaude stood in the middle of the room, his hands shaking from pain. His anger had died down.

What had he done?

Feeling like he was moving through a fog, Alaude drifted into his living room and sat on the porch; staring blankly out at the garden. Once again, the cloud guardian had been faced with a situation where he wasn’t able to say anything to change the person’s mind. It had been easier just to play along with how Knuckle saw it, even if it meant saying words that were farthest from the truth.

Alaude’s eyes narrowed and he clutched the fabric of his slacks tightly.

Of course he loved Knuckle. The sun guardian had been the only one who had ever wanted to spend time with Alaude. Sure he was loud, and he was pushy, but the cloud guardian had come to enjoy it no matter how much he pretended that he didn’t. And, eventually, he’d come to love it.

He’d thoroughly enjoyed the times when they were together, as lovers or not. And Knuckle had always been understanding; he left Alaude alone when he sensed that the other needed space, and he always asked before doing something that he knew might tick Alaude off otherwise. Despite what he always said, Alaude had also loved the times when he could just spend the night with Knuckle, tangling under the sheets, and wake up with the sun guardian in his arms.

Had Knuckle really believed that Alaude had never loved him?

Pushing back the swelling pain in his chest, Alaude forced his mind to numb. He had brought this on himself. He was the one who had complained about Knuckle being weak and dependent, even though he knew the sun guardian wasn’t that at all. He was the one who had taken out all of his anger on his ex-lover and, somewhere in the back of his mind, Alaude had always known that God was and always would be a barrier between them. In Knuckle’s mind, his relationship with Alaude was taboo. Alaude could recall a number of times where God had stopped them from doing anything intimate. Really, they shouldn’t have lasted as long as they did.

Perhaps it was for the best. Knuckle could never have been really happy with him. Besides, Alaude was a loner. He was independent; he didn’t need anyone. Hardening his mind and his heart, Alaude decided that it was time to forget that he had ever loved.

He just wondered when his home had started to make him feel so trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. On that note. I’ve been really fond of making everyone casual in this story xD I mean, come on, who doesn’t want to see Knuckle outside of his priest robes? Maybe you’ll get a casual Alaude and Daemon out of me eventually ;D


	12. Lampo

Lampo watched the night turn to dawn outside his bedroom window. He’d been up all night, unable to sleep because of Knuckle’s sniveling in the bed next to him.

The sun guardian had appeared at his door while Lampo had been preoccupied with video games, completely in tears. He had told his younger guardian that he needed a room to stay in, but wouldn’t say why. Considering he’d brought all of his belongings, Lampo reasoned that something must’ve happened between him and Alaude. He avoided the subject, though, and let Knuckle stay. He didn’t want to make the ex-priest more upset than he already was.

And so he lay, wide awake, for the second night in a row.

“L-Lampo…?” A tentative voice sounded to his left, causing Lampo to look over in surprise. Knuckle was staring at him, eyes watery and a serious expression on his face. “Do you want me to leave? I don’t want to keep you awake…”

Lampo turned onto his side to better look at Knuckle, a frustrated frown on his face. “Knuckle, don’t say things like that! Of course I don’t want you to leave. I’d just be playing video games anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Knuckle looked doubtful. Lampo blinked at him.

“We’re all worried about you, man. You won’t tell anyone what happened.”

Knuckle turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. As Lampo continued to stare at him, wondering if he was going to say anything or not, a tear rolled down the sun guardian’s cheek.

“It’s nothing, Lampo. I just hope God will forgive me for my sins.”

“Knuckle, I’ve always respected your beliefs and everything, but this is ridiculous!” Lampo snapped, feeling a rush of impatience. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time to be saying this, when Knuckle was so fragile, but Lampo was sick of it. “How can you love someone, and yet always call it a sin? If I were Alaude, that wouldn’t make me feel very loved!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Knuckle hissed, and then immediately seemed to regret it. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I tried my hardest to look for a way we could be together, but it was all for nothing. He never loved me anyway.”

Lampo swallowed back a reply. He doubted that, but the sun guardian was obviously in no mood to hear what a sleep-deprived teen had to say. Exhaling loudly, Lampo turned onto his back and joined Knuckle in staring at the ceiling.

He had never felt so useless in his entire life. Giotto never let him go out on missions, so he couldn’t help keep Italy safe, and now he couldn’t help a man who was like a brother to him. Wasn’t there anything he could do?! What was the point of being part of the Vongola if all he could do was sit around and play video games? They were better off without him; all he was doing was freeloading…

But then, as he heard Knuckle start sniffling again, he realized that the depressed ex-priest wouldn’t have a place to go if Lampo wasn’t there.

Maybe he was good for something after all.

 

\--

 

Lampo woke up late, after finally falling into a short, troubled sleep. Knuckle’s temporary bed was empty, and the lightning guardian struggled to figure out what time it was. Giotto had wanted him to go to the store that day, but, as Lampo fought to keep his eyes open, he wondered if he _really_ wanted to get up and walk down to the supermarket in the freezing cold.

He groaned at his laziness. Maybe this was why Giotto never let him go on any missions.

Forcing himself out of bed, Lampo pulled on his off-white over shirt and leaned down to pull on his boots. His sleepiness made him clumsy, however, and he stood up before he realized that he’d put his shoes on the wrong feet. Sighing dramatically in annoyance, the teen plopped back down on his bed to take his boots off and put them on correctly.

He heard a snort from the doorway, making him look up in mild surprise. G was leaning against the doorframe, his red eyes sparkling in amusement. The action was almost alien to Lampo; the storm guardian had been depressed for so long that Lampo couldn’t remember the last time G had teased him about something.

“Having trouble?” G smirked. Despite his efforts, Lampo couldn’t stop the smile that came onto his lips. It had been too long since G had been his old self. He reclined lazily, sticking his socked feet up in the air as he whined comically.

“Yesss, G, it’s too much effort! Put my boots on for me!”

G scoffed and stalked over, picking up one of Lampo’s boots and throwing it at the teen’s head.

“Oh, please! Put it on yourself, damn brat!”

Lampo pretended to be knocked out as the boot hit him in the forehead, throwing his head back onto the bed with more force than necessary. Closing his eyes, he lolled his tongue out of his mouth. He could barely contain his laughter as G pretended to be distressed about Lampo’s “death” and collapsed over him in a sobbing heap. G snickering on his stomach, however, caused him to completely lose his composure.

“Wait, G, uncle, uncle!” Lampo screeched as G started to tickle him. He couldn’t stop laughing as he twitched back and forth. “S-stop, that tickles!”

After what seemed like eternity, G stopped tickling him and stood up from the bed. Trying to catch his breath, Lampo stared up happily at G’s amused expression.

It really had been too long.

“Okay, seriously kid, get out of bed. Giotto wanted you to go to the store, but he figured you’d forget something if I didn’t come with you.” G threw the other shoe at the lightning guardian.

“I wouldn’t forget anything!” Lampo complained grumpily, but did what he was told and sat up off the bed. He put his boots on the correct feet that time and stood to follow G out of his bedroom.

They headed down the corridor to get their coats, which were hanging on the family’s coatrack (there were so many members that the rack was constantly overloaded, which meant that someone’s coat, or two, was certainly cluttering the floor around the rack), when they passed Knuckle. He was stooped to pick up his coat from the ground when they approached.

“You going out, Knuckle?” G sounded surprised. Knuckle looked confused for a moment before he stood and hung his coat back up on the rack.

“N-no, I…” Knuckle stammered, looking around as if he wasn’t sure where he even was. “I-I guess I was going over to Alaude’s…”

An awkward silence hung over them then. Lampo didn’t know if G knew of the drama going on between their sun and cloud guardians but, if he didn’t, he smartly kept his mouth shut. Knuckle glanced at them uncertainly before he adverted his gaze, mumbled an apology for some unknown reason, and pushed his way past G and Lampo to head down the corridor they’d just come from.

The lightning and storm guardians collected their coats without a word before heading outside. Snow was falling gently on land already covered in a layer of white. Lampo narrowed his eyes as cold wind slapped his cheeks. It was just as cold as he had worried it would be. But at least he had company.

They were a safe distance from the shack before G spoke up.

“What was that all about? Knuckle seemed like he needed an excuse to go over to Alaude’s,” G commented thoughtfully. “He’s never needed one before.”

“Something went on between them,” Lampo muttered. He kicked his boot through a pile of snow. “Knuckle moved into my room a few nights ago. He won’t tell me what happened.”

G said nothing. Lampo could only guess what he was thinking; G was the guardian he knew the best, but even he didn’t tell the lightning guardian everything. They hadn’t spoken once during his depression, and Lampo had been the last to know when G and Ugetsu got together.

He wondered angrily if it was because he was ten years younger than the others.

“I wish people would tell me things!” Lampo hissed icily, watching as his breath formed a cloud in the air before dispersing. “Just because I’m a kid doesn’t mean I can’t listen!”

G glanced over at him.

“We don’t want to worry you, Lampo.”

“Like I haven’t heard that before!” Lampo snapped. Stopping, he whirled on his heels to confront G. “You guys don’t let me do anything! I can’t go on missions, I can’t watch my favorite shows, and I can’t be trusted to be manly enough to take whatever problems you guys have! Why do you guys have to burden everything while I sit in my room twiddling my thumbs?! I’m _bored_!!”

Stopping as well, G turned to face the seething teen. His expression was annoyingly calm, though Lampo recoiled slightly at the fire burning in his eyes.

“Selfish brat. How do you expect us to send you out on missions when you never train? Why should we let you watch shows when that’s all you ever do? Have you ever considered that maybe we don’t confide in you because you never do anything? It would be like talking to fucking air!” G growled, losing his calm composure as he stalked over to the lightning guardian. He grabbed his collar with his mittened hand. “If you really want to be useful, why don’t you get off your lazy ass and do something with your life?! The only reason you’re bored is because you refuse to do anything!”

The words stung worse than the chilly breeze. Lampo shook with anger, wanting to retaliate, even though what G said was true. He never did anything. But he refused to believe it was all his fault. He slapped G’s hand away and started shuffling towards the store again.

“Every time I try to do something, I’m either ignored or I make things worse,” he muttered into the snow, as if it would solve all of his problems.

G’s boots crunched on the snow as he caught up to him. The anger in his voice was gone when he spoke again.

“If you’re talking about this whole situation with Ricardo, I don’t agree with Giotto’s decision either. But he must see something in Ricardo that the rest of us can’t, so we all just have to accept it. He’s the boss, after all.” G stopped again and kneeled down to pick up snow in his mitten. “And don’t think you’re the only little bastard who’s made mistakes. You’re a real idiot if you choose to stop moving forward because you’ve made some bad choices.”

G trailed off, as if getting lost in some memory. Lampo, stopping a little father ahead, wondered if he was thinking about Ugetsu. He wondered what it would be like to be in love with someone, to have someone that was overjoyed to have you come home every day. It seemed nice, and Lampo wondered with a sudden aching longing if he’d ever have someone who would be happy just to see him.

A ball of freezing snow hit him in the face, causing him to gasp in shock as the scattered flakes fell down his shirt. He whirled to see G sending him an amused smirk as he slapped snow off of his mittens.

“Drop the long face and enjoy being a kid while you can!”

Lampo blinked at him for a moment before he realized that G was right. Maybe it was a good thing that he could hang around and have fun like this. And he truly would be an idiot if he didn’t enjoy this time while he could.

A mischievous twinkle developing in the teen’s eyes, he leaped on a patch of snow, scooped it up in his glove, and tossed it at G’s head.

 

\--

 

Lampo woke with a start to the smell of smoke.

After he and G had returned from the supermarket, Lampo had snuck back to his room in hopes that he could catch some shut eye before Knuckle came back from wherever he’d disappeared to. He was still exhausted, despite sleeping all day, and he had fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

Now, however, he was wide awake as he tried to figure out what was burning.

Sitting up, Lampo glanced around. He had to squint through all of the smoke that was clouding the room to see anything, not that there was much to see from his position on the bed. Staggering to his feet, Lampo dashed over to the window and glanced outside. What he saw turned his blood to ice.

Ricardo was standing in the courtyard, watching calmly as red hot flames crept up the side of the house where Giotto kept his office. Daemon was standing next to him, a cold smirk on his lips as he dropped the container of gasoline he had been holding in a gloved hand.

In a moment, Lampo knew exactly what was going on.

“Fire! Everybody out!” He screeched, dashing over to where Knuckle was still dozing. He shook him violently, eyes stretched wide in panic. “Knuckle, wake up, we have to get out of here!”

“Leave me,” Knuckle murmured weakly, pushing Lampo away. “This is what I deserve.”

“That’s ridiculous!” The teen screamed. Knuckle ignored him.

Knowing he had no other option (besides leaving the ex-priest where he was, which Lampo _refused_ to do), Lampo mustered all of his strength and dragged Knuckle out of the bed. Grunting in effort, he pulled on Knuckle’s arm until the sun guardian unwillingly began to walk with him. Impatience and panic clouded Lampo’s mind as he basically pushed Knuckle into the corridor.

He had to warn the others.

“Go outside and get as far away from the shack as possible!” Lampo commanded, dashing away before Knuckle could reply. He couldn’t wait around to make sure the sun guardian did as he asked; he had to make sure the rest of his family was outside.

Flames crackled around Lampo as the corridor began to catch on fire. Lampo realized he only had a few minutes before the whole building would go up in smoke and he would be trapped inside. He ran into G and Ugetsu, who were in the process of advocating.

“Lampo, what-?!”

“No time to explain!” Lampo interrupted. “Just get outside! And make sure Knuckle’s out there, I don’t know if he went outside like I told him to!”

Without waiting for a reply once again, Lampo dashed in the direction of Giotto’s room. He was sure Alaude could take care of himself, since his house wasn’t even attached to the building that was on fire, but Giotto’s office had been the first area Daemon and Ricardo had set fire to and his room was right next to it. The lightning guardian’s panic increased as he turned the corner to be met with a tower of fire. The kitchen was completely charred, anything beyond it gone.

“Giotto!” Lampo screamed, coughing as smoke filled his lungs. Giotto’s room was back there.

Something snapped loudly beyond the normal popping of the flames, causing Lampo to jerk around. As he looked toward the ceiling, he saw a beam starting to peel from the foundation, flames crawling along its base. Without stopping to think, Lampo began running back where he had come.

If that beam fell, the teen would be completely trapped.

Everything seemed to slow down as Lampo watched the last of the beam’s support burn to a crisp, the piece of wood hesitating for a moment before it began to fall.

Lampo’s life flashed behind his eyes. Or, at least, that’s what he thought should’ve happened as he began to slow down. It’s what always happened to the characters in his movies. But, unlike Lampo, the characters in the movies always ended up alive and well.

Just as he was about to admit defeat, and wait for the flames to consume him, something knocked into him from behind, propelling him forwards. The teen landed hard on his stomach, his head spinning as he tried to figure out what had just happened. What the hell had knocked into him?

“You silly boy,” someone muttered from above him. “You should’ve just evacuated like the others.”

Sitting up, Lampo glanced up to see his boss standing above him. Giotto’s clothes were just patches of char and his hair was singed, like he’d just walked through the fire. And perhaps he had.

“Giotto…” Lampo felt tears welling up in his eyes. “You’re alive!”

“I am.” A small smile graced the sky guardian’s lips. “But not for long if we stay in here. Come.”

Lampo accepted the hand that was offered to him and let Giotto pull him to his feet. They then began to run through the burning house and back down the corridor to outside. Lampo let his mind shut down and pretended he was a five year old again, when Giotto would always lead him places by the hand. He had always trusted Giotto then, and he trusted him now.

He only knew that they had made it when the cold wind once again stung his cheeks; though it actually stung that time because of his burn-sensitive skin.

“We made it!” He exclaimed loudly.

“And everyone else did, too,” Giotto replied, his voice full of relief. Lampo followed Giotto’s gaze and saw that he was right as they headed for an open space well away from the shack where the whole family was standing in a clump (except for Alaude, of course, who was standing away from the rest). Lampo was relieved to see that Knuckle was among them. The family was all accounted for.

_“All except Daemon,”_ Lampo thought, but refrained from saying it out loud. He’d tell Giotto about what he’d seen outside his window eventually, but not at that moment.

As they started heading for the rest of the group, Giotto turned to Lampo with a smile. “Thanks for coming back for me, Lampo. You were very brave.”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Lampo grinned.

“Does this mean I can go on missions?”

Giotto stared at him incredulously, before realizing that the teen was joking. His face instantly relaxed, making him look several years younger, as he laughed outright.

“We’ll have to see!”

Lampo’s smile grew as they joined up with the rest of the Vongola. Even though the shack was burned down, by that shady Ricardo and their traitor of a mist guardian, Lampo couldn’t help but feel utterly happy. They had all made it, and Lampo had proved to everyone (including himself) that he could be reliable in situations of utter crisis.

Despite the bleak looking future, Lampo knew at least one thing for certain: the Vongola was where he belonged, and he wouldn’t trade his family for the world.

 

\--

 

Lampo trudged alongside Knuckle, making sure the stunned sun guardian kept up with the rest of the group as the Vongola headed towards Cozart’s mansion. Giotto had decided that his closest friend was the only person they could depend on in their time of need, though Lampo thought he picked up reluctance from him. The teen couldn’t fathom why.

He had never met Cozart, but he’d heard a lot about him. It seemed like Giotto was always talking about him and that the two bosses were very close. Lampo had always made the assumption that if Giotto liked him, then he would like him as well, but after Lampo’s differing opinion of Ricardo, he didn’t know if it was safe to make that assumption anymore. However, G also seemed to like the man, so Lampo’s unease was slightly calmed.

Concerning him the most was Knuckle.

Up ahead, walking a slight distance from the others, was Alaude. The proud cloud guardian had, surprisingly, planned to stay at Cozart’s with the rest of the Vongola, despite the fact that his home had not burned to the ground. Lampo guessed that it was partly because of how much he hated Daemon, and therefore didn’t want to live all alone with him, but Lampo believed it was also for a much more important reason.

As the teen watched Alaude, the cloud guardian swiveled his head to the side and shot a glance over his shoulder at Knuckle. He would never stare for very long before he turned his attention back to where he was going, but he had looked back so many times that Lampo had lost count. Every time he would do so, Lampo would glance at Knuckle out of the corner of his eye; he hoped that Alaude’s continuous glances would convince the depressed sun guardian that Alaude did care about him.

But Knuckle’s gaze was fixed firmly on his feet, and he never looked up once.

Sighing, Lampo decided to let his mind go blank for a while. As much as he wanted to help, the lightning guardian knew that Alaude and Knuckle would have to work it out for themselves. Neither of them would listen nor believe anything he said. All he was doing by overanalyzing everything was giving himself a headache.

Before long, however, Lampo was brought out of his thoughts by a group halt. Refocusing, the teen looked in front of him to discover that Giotto had stopped in front of a _huge_ house. Three stories of glorious architecture, spanned over an entire street block, greeted Lampo, who could feel his jaw dropping to the ground. He’d never seen a house so big in his life. It was hard to imagine anyone lived there- it looked like a fancy private school!

Despite Lampo’s doubts that they were in the right place, Giotto walked up to the door and knocked.

As Lampo struggled to pick his jaw up off the ground, he could only marvel at what kind of person would live in a house like this. Would he have the most expensive, specially tailored three-piece suit with diamonds on the soles of his shoes? Would his smile show teeth so sparkly white that, when he flashed it his way, Lampo would drop dead from eye cancer? Would he have the most stylish haircut, with every single hair cut to precise perfection? Would he have a whole line of servants, with a butler to answer the door?

“Knuckle, are you seeing this? I mean, are you really seeing this?!” Lampo breathed as he tried not to fall over from his dazzled state. Knuckle rewarded him with a raised eyebrow.

The teen was so amazed that he nearly missed Cozart’s not as magnificent as he had expected entrance. There had not been a butler to open the door, inquiring on who was there, nor was the man who did appear anything like how Lampo had imagined. He did have on something of a suit, but it was nowhere near the most expensive, nor was it three-piece. He didn’t wear any shoes, and had on bright orange socks that seriously clashed with his non-three-piece suit. He wore a cap that looked like it should’ve been on top of a paper boy and his hair was a colossal mess.

Compared to Lampo’s mental image, the man looked like a hobo. The teen was gravely disappointed.

“Giotto…?” Cozart looked stunned for a moment, his eyes glued to Giotto as if he was afraid that if he looked away the Vongola boss wouldn’t be standing there anymore when he looked back.

Giotto shifted uncomfortably, which broke Cozart out of his trance. It was then that he looked behind Giotto and noticed the rest of the family scattered in front of the door. Cozart jumped back, his hand slapping his forehead in shock. Lampo thought drily that the whole ordeal was way overdramatic.

“Woah, it looks like you brought your whole family with you!”

“I did.” Giotto stared at his old friend, his gaze unreadable to Lampo. “We… have nowhere else to go. Our home burned down last night, and I didn’t know what to do, so I came to you… Please don’t hesitate to tell us if it’s too much trouble!”

“Hey, that’s too bad,” Cozart murmured, lowering his eyes in sadness. But then he looked up again, determination pouring off of him in waves. “And of course you can stay here until you can figure out your situation! I allowed all of my guardians to take a vacation to Japan, so it’s a little lonely in the house… Er, I mean to say that there’s plenty of room for you all!”

Lampo’s blood began to boil in excitement. He’d get to live temporarily in a mansion! Yeah, Cozart was a messy weirdo, but the exterior of the house couldn’t lie about the interior! He’d have to explore the entire house while he had the chance, but who knew how long that would take. As the Vongola were ushered inside, the teen latched onto Knuckle’s arm.

“Knuckle, let’s go exploring!” He muttered mischievously as he leaned towards the sun guardian, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Lampo, Cozart has not even let us formally into his house, we can’t just go-!” Knuckle began, but was interrupted as Lampo dragged him away from the others.

“Cozart might not let us explore if we don’t sneak away now!” Lampo argued, creeping down a corridor. “Giotto can make our excuses!”

Knuckle sighed, but the teen turned around to see that a small smile had graced his lips. Lampo’s hopes soared as they jumped into a room that appeared to be a huge bathroom. The lightning guardian had hoped that taking the ex-priest exploring would help take his mind off of Alaude and put some fun back into his life.

And, as Knuckle began to take the lead and they both ran down the deserted hallway, giggling like teenage school girls, Lampo began to think that his plan was working. Knuckle would be alright after all.

 

\--

 

As Lampo lay awake that night, Knuckle snoring next to him (the sun guardian had insisted on getting his own room, but the teen hadn’t trusted him to be on his own; Knuckle had seemed better when they had gotten back from exploring, but Lampo didn’t know how long it would last), he realized that he’d forgotten to tell Giotto about Daemon. While he guessed it wasn’t that urgent, Lampo didn’t think he’d be able to get to sleep without getting the information off of his chest. He just hoped Giotto was awake.

Sneaking out of bed, careful not to wake Knuckle, Lampo crept out into the hallway. The Vongola had all been put in rooms along a long corridor on the second floor of the mansion. It was apparently where all of the Shimon guardians slept when they were at home, which made Lampo slightly uncomfortable with being there. He didn’t like sleeping in someone else’s bed.

As he turned to head towards Giotto’s temporary room, he crashed into someone. Yelping, he jumped back and rubbed his nose where it had been hit. He glared up at the silhouette he had smashed into.

“Hey, what’s the big idea, sneaking around in the middle of the night?!” Lampo hissed, before moonlight flashed into the window by the corridor and the teen recognized the figure. His blood turned to ice.

“I could ask you the same thing, brat.” Alaude’s tone sparked with irritation, causing Lampo to swallow in worry. Picking a fight with Alaude was a death wish as it was, let alone asking him what he was doing like it was any of Lampo’s business. But, as the teen thought about the man sleeping in his room, he thought that perhaps it _was_ his business.

“Knuckle’s sleeping,” Lampo stated icily. He didn’t know what Alaude was up to, but it sure as heck was creepy with him sneaking into his ex-lover’s room at night.

“I’m not here to see Knuckle.” The response came too quick and too brash to be true.

“Oh, then I suppose you’re here to see me,” Lampo snorted sarcastically.

Alaude glared down at him, but said nothing more. The teen was only able to revel in his victory for a moment before the cloud guardian pushed past him and disappeared into the room where Knuckle was sleeping. Lampo thought about stopping him, but then realized that would be even more of a death wish. Besides, maybe Alaude was actually trying to mend whatever had happened between him and the sun guardian.

Lampo decided to be a good person and not eavesdrop as he headed down the corridor to Giotto’s room. When he got there, he was disappointed to find that his room was empty. Wondering if he should check the bathrooms, in case Giotto had made a mad dash in the middle of the night, Lampo walked along aimlessly. He would check the bathrooms, if he could remember where they were.

Suddenly voices wafted up from a room just down the hall. A light was shining underneath the door, showing that someone was up late, and Lampo realized that it was Cozart’s room.

Sneaking forward quietly, Lampo pressed his ear to the door. Either Cozart was talking to himself, or Lampo had found his boss.

“Please, don’t apologize,” Giotto was saying, his voice coated with sadness. Lampo only had a fleeting thought about how he’d found his boss before he focused more intently on the conversation going on behind the door. “I didn’t give you the proper answer you deserved, and I’m sorry about that. I know my distress caused you a lot of pain.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place!” Cozart proclaimed loudly before his voice dropped to a whisper. “… I never wanted you to know…”

There was a brief pause before Giotto answered again.

“It’s flattering, honestly. It’s just that I… I really don’t know how I feel right now. It might be a long time before I can come up with a proper answer for you.”

“I understand,” Cozart replied immediately. Lampo wondered if he really did, whatever they were talking about. “But please… don’t let this cause awkwardness between us. First and foremost, I will always be your friend.”

“Thank you, Cozart.” Lampo could almost hear the smile in Giotto’s voice.

The teen was so caught up in what was going on in the room that he didn’t realize the conversation was over and that Giotto was leaving until it was too late. The door opened in his face, causing him to roll over backwards. He lay sprawled on the floor, hoping that if he just stayed still Giotto wouldn’t notice.

“Huh? Lampo?” The lightning guardian cursed Giotto’s Hyper Intuition. Irritation coated Giotto’s voice. “Were you eavesdropping again?”

“N-no…” Lampo propped himself up shakily on his hands. He could feel blood dripping out of his nose. “I-I came to find you to talk about the fire… You see, Daemon-”

“Let’s not talk about that now,” Giotto sighed, leaning down to help Lampo to his feet. “The fire was a devastating shock, but I’m sure things will look better in the morning.”

“But Giotto, I-”

“Come on, we need to clean up that bloody nose of yours,” Giotto interrupted once more as he began to lead the injured teen down the hallway.

Lampo sighed in frustration. Obviously Giotto was in no mood to listen to what he said, which wasn’t unusual. It seemed like the teen heard and saw everything that went on, but no one would listen to him when he tried to report. He was sure so many problems would’ve been solved immediately if anyone had bothered to listen to the lightning guardian.

As Giotto put a cloth to the teen’s nose and leaned his head back, Lampo yearned for the day when his family would finally listen to what he had to say.


	13. Knuckle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally.... THE RINGS!!

Knuckle had made up his mind. As he settled in the room of Cozart’s mansion that he shared with Lampo, he promised himself he would forget about Alaude. He would stop crying, he would stop pitying himself, and he would stop telling himself he couldn’t live without the cloud guardian. He _could_ ; he didn’t need someone in his life who didn’t love him.

The sun guardian had always had to carry the relationship over. He had worked so hard to get past his religious conflicts, to find a loophole that would allow him to have a relationship with another man. He had abandoned his old room, where he could be around people (one of his favorite past times), to live with Alaude. He had given up his job as a priest. He had always been the one who memorized Alaude’s mood patterns to know how he was supposed to act depending on Alaude’s emotional state. He had adjusted to every single one of Alaude’s habits, while the leader of the CEDEF had never tried to give up anything for Knuckle. He was extremely tired of always thinking about that un-caring, selfish, cloud guardian…

At least that’s what he continued to tell himself. It would take more to convince his heart.

Sighing, Knuckle looked up at the ceiling. It was hard enough for him to fall asleep at home, let alone in some stranger’s bed. It just felt so empty, so cold. He missed the warmth of Alaude’s strange sleeping positions and his unconscious nuzzles. Knuckle had discovered the proud cloud guardian _did_ have a soft side; he had just never seen it outside of Alaude’s sleep.

Knuckle growled as he violently thrashed onto his side. He refused to think about that man any longer! God was probably disappointed in him enough as it was; there was no reason to push his luck. He’d already been forgiven more than he deserved.

While struggling vainly to fall asleep, the sun guardian heard his roommate slip out of bed. Curious as to what the teen could be up to, he casually turned onto his back and gazed forward. Lampo was pulling on pants, to which Knuckle discreetly adverted his gaze. Sure, they were both males, but it was strange to watch someone dress. It brought back too many memories of weird things the ex-priest would rather forget. It was making him uncomfortable just thinking about it.

Abandoning his weird thought process, Knuckle resumed his watch as Lampo, fully dressed, slipped out of their bedroom. He could only ponder on what the reckless teen could be doing at this hour. They had already explored nearly the entire mansion earlier, which had exhausted Knuckle more than he thought was possible. He wondered how kids had so much energy. He wondered when he had lost that energy.

Suddenly feeling extremely old, the sun guardian turned onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow. He hoped sleep would come soon.

The door opened again, but Knuckle didn’t move since he assumed it was Lampo coming back. Strange how the teen would bother to put his pants on when he had only been outside for thirty seconds.

However, Lampo did not come back to bed.

A chill crept up Knuckle’s spine at the thought that there was someone (or some _thing_ ) in the room with him. Knuckle was a very superstitious man; he believed that spirits with unfinished business lurked around in the mortal world, haunting all that got in the way of whatever they were set out to do. What if Cozart had inhabited the mansion of a depressed millionaire who had committed suicide because his wife would have affairs in the very room Knuckle was in now?! What if his spirit lurked in this room, cursing anyone who set foot in it because he assumed they were suitors to his wife?!

Suddenly a weight settled on the other end of Knuckle’s bed, making the whole mattress sink down a little. The sun guardian leaped out of his skin.

“I-I-I-I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!! I’M INNOCENT!!” Knuckle screeched as he yanked his pillow to his chest and whipped around, cowering against the back of the bed as he awaited his fate.

There was no ghost. No spirit reaching for his neck with an icy grip. Instead, Alaude sat on the other end of the bed, eyes slightly wide in surprise, but otherwise blank of emotion. As Knuckle’s rapidly beating heart began to slow, he felt extremely embarrassed. A light blush dusted his cheeks as he realized how silly it was to think a ghost was haunting him.

But then it hit him. _Alaude_ was here! The man who had torn out his heart and stomped it into the ashes of where their shack used to stand. The man who he had loved for two years. Knuckle averted his gaze; he had nothing to say to this man. Not anymore.

“Did you think I was a ghost?” Alaude’s voice was deep and quiet, the rich tone of it sending, against his wishes, a shiver down Knuckle’s spine. The sun guardian shoved his face deeper into the pillow. He didn’t appreciate Alaude’s teasing at such a tender moment.

“What do you want?”

“You’re not happy to see me?” Alaude’s eyebrow rose.

“What?!” Knuckle threw down his pillow, sudden anger flushing his face. How _dare_ Alaude pretend like nothing happened?! Why to the extreme should he be happy to see a man who had tossed him away like dirt?! Knuckle was sick to death of playing Alaude’s stupid games. “I’m happy _not_ to see you!”

For a moment, pain flashed across Alaude’s face. Though he tried to hide it, Knuckle knew him well enough to know it had been there. He had struck home; though a small part of him hated to admit it, it felt good to lash back at the cloud guardian. He had been in so much pain for the last week that it was about time Alaude got what he deserved.

“Do you really feel that way?” Alaude’s eyes met Knuckle’s.

The sun guardian hesitated. He almost gave in; of course he didn’t really feel that way. Love like what he felt for Alaude would never just go away. Even then, his heart was aflutter with his close proximity to the other. He could barely stop himself from reaching out and stroking the cloud guardian’s cheek. But he didn’t. He refused to let Alaude back in and wait for him to do the same things over again. Knuckle raised his head, but couldn’t quite get himself to meet Alaude’s gaze.

“Yes. I never want to see you again. Leave me alone.” Knuckle felt his heart break.

Silence. As Knuckle raised his gaze, he was shocked at the level of raw emotion on Alaude’s face. The cloud guardian’s expression reflected anger, but also deep levels of pain; the sun guardian had never seen so many uncontrolled feelings on Alaude’s face before. Knuckle felt his heart break again. He opened his mouth to take it back, to say that he loved Alaude and wanted to hold him in his arms again, but the cloud guardian was already standing.

“I see.”

Alaude turned his back on Knuckle and, without another word, walked out of the sun guardian’s life.

Knuckle felt hollow. What had he just done? He held out his hand, as if that would keep Alaude from leaving, but the cloud guardian was already gone. As the sun guardian fell back onto his bed, and Lampo quietly sneaked back into the room, Knuckle had only one thought.

Had he pushed away the only love he would ever have for good?

 

\--

 

Knuckle barely slept that night. Regret and longing consumed his entire being until he felt he was going to explode from the pressure of it. When had his life become such a mess?

For a short amount of time, it had been perfect. The best times of his life had been when he and Alaude could escape from the others and have a quiet picnic up in the hills somewhere. He could still remember the first (and last, now that Knuckle sadly thought about it) time that Alaude had told him he loved him. It had been quick and quiet, but it had been there, and the sun guardian couldn’t place his finger on a time when he had ever been happier.

But now that was over. And it would probably never happen again. Knuckle had pushed Alaude away, and he knew the proud cloud guardian would never come back and risk exposing his emotions again.

He had lost his chance.

Knuckle decided right then and there he would never love again. He would go back to the priesthood and live out the rest of his lonely life helping other people with their lives and their connection with God. Maybe then he could redeem himself from the sin of being happy.

At least Knuckle had forced himself to stop crying. He would prove to his whole family that he would be okay, that they didn’t have to worry about him anymore. He would pull his own weight, and he would never show how much he was hurting. He would keep his love affair in the past and focus on the present. He would survive and remember how to live.

Sitting up in bed, determined to give a morning prayer before he faced the world with his new outlook, Knuckle felt the bandage on his nose start to peel. With a sad smile, he remembered when he had started wearing the bandage.

_“How is it that you always manage to hurt your nose?” Alaude scoffed as he applied a fresh bandage to Knuckle’s hundredth nose scab of the week. There had been a sudden increase in street crime threatening the streets of Italy; Knuckle had been on more missions in the last week than he had in his entire mafia career. And, every single time, he had injured his nose._

_“It’s an extremely puzzling mystery, isn’t it?” Knuckle laughed before sending his lover a teasing smile. “Maybe if you extremely kiss it, it’ll feel better?”_

_“Maybe you should put a bandage over your mouth, too,” Alaude snapped, but he wasn’t angry. Humor danced in his eyes, and, despite what he’d just said, he leaned forward and placed a small kiss on Knuckle’s nose._

_“Maybe I should just wear this permanently. Then I can get a free kiss from you all of the time!” Knuckle hummed. He took the role of bandages from Alaude as the cloud guardian sat still for his turn to get fixed up._

_“You wouldn’t last a day,” Alaude replied cynically._

_“Watch me.”_

Ever since that day, Knuckle had always worn a bandage on his nose. Though it hadn’t always given him the free kisses he’d hoped for, it did protect his nose from further damage and broke him from the curse of always injuring it somehow. The memory saddened him now, but it was too much of a habit to just stop.

Pushing the memory from his mind, Knuckle pressed down on the bandage to get it to stick again and got out of bed to pray.

 

\--

 

“Knuckle, I would like to speak with you.”

The sun guardian looked up from his breakfast to see Giotto hovering at his side. It was the second week that the Vongola had stayed at Cozart’s house and Knuckle was beginning to wonder if they would ever leave. Not that he had too many complaints; the house was beautiful and the food was great. He was just getting a little tired of sleeping in someone else’s bed and Cozart’s failed attempts to not be awkward around everyone. Despite that, the ex-priest enjoyed himself. He had been able to avoid Alaude nearly the entire time, and he had even brought himself around to eating with the family again. Giotto no longer had a reason to worry about him, so Knuckle had no clue why his boss would need to speak with him specifically.

“What about?” Knuckle responded, a piece of bacon dangling from his mouth. He was eating so much these days after he’d regained his appetite.

Giotto hesitated. He seemed nervous about something, and he scratched at his hair impulsively as he spoke. “Do you remember a girl named Sepira?”

“Sepira?” The name rang a bell. “Isn’t she the one who’s not human, or something extreme like that?”

“Yes,” Giotto smiled. “I’m glad you remember. That will make this a lot easier.”

Knuckle eyed his boss. “Giotto, spit it out already! You’re making me extremely nervous.”

“To tell the truth, I am nervous.” Giotto sighed. “Sepira contacted me last night. She sounded worried and tired, telling me that she wanted to meet up so that she could give me something. The fact that she is worried about anything makes me very nervous.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“I want you to come with me.” Giotto smiled. “I would appreciate it if we had someone who knew how to pray if we needed to.”

Knuckle smiled at Giotto’s attempt at humor. “You don’t want anyone else to go?”

“G and Ugetsu are too busy trying to find a place where we can rebuild our base, Alaude is too busy running the CEDEF, Lampo is still only a child, and Daemon has not forgiven me enough for me to trust him in such an important mission. I hope you don’t have any complaints.”

Knuckle stood up. “Not at all! When do we leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

 

\--

 

Knuckle was sharing Giotto’s nervousness by the time they reached the place where they were supposed to meet Sepira. His boss had informed him on the way that Sepira’s species had been on Earth before even humans and that they were extremely important to the balance of life on this planet. The fact that anything could be wrong…

“Are we early?” The sun guardian asked, scuffing the toe of his shoe into the dirt. They were on temple grounds, and yet the dirt was thick. Just what lazy person would leave dirt on a sacred temple?!

“I don’t think so…” Giotto paused as a light shimmered from a few yards away.

Out of the light came a small, lithe girl who didn’t appear to be more than twelve. She had dark green hair and light blue eyes, with a smile that seemed to warm everything around her. On top of her head sat a giant white hat with black stripes on either side of it, lined with thinner gold stripes, and a gold tassel on one side. She wore a white and black kimono with long sleeves and a small orange flower dotted her right cheek.

“Sepira!” Giotto rushed over to meet the girl. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Giotto… Are you doing well?” Sepira touched Giotto’s cheek in a friendly manner before turning her attention to Knuckle, who was hanging back awkwardly. “And Knuckle! It’s nice to see you again as well – though you probably don’t remember me.”

Knuckle rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m afraid to say I don’t. I know your name, but had extremely forgotten your appearance.”

“No matter; you were quite young when we met.”

“Sepira…” Giotto’s concerned voice drew the girl’s attention back to him. “Is everything alright? Why have you summoned me?”

The girl’s smile vanished, like the coming of winter. She stepped back from Giotto, looking down at her feet as her brow furrowed with concern. Knuckle wondered off-handedly if that’s the way he’d looked when he had been depressed.

“Things are not alright. My race is dying.”

“What?!” Giotto exclaimed in shock. “But how?!”

Sepira shook her head. “No one knows. One day we were fine, the next my kin was dying at an alarming rate. Even if we tried to discover what could be causing this, I fear it would be too late.”

Knuckle stared on in shocked silence as Giotto hung his head, his fists tightening in what Knuckle assumed to be despair. How could Sepira’s race be dying? Didn’t the balance of the world rely on their survival? Was this preluding the end of the world that had always been prophesied?!

“Is there anything we can do?!” Giotto shouted suddenly, looking up desperately. “I refuse to sit back and let you die!”

Sepira smiled warmly at him. “That is why I called you here, silly. There is nothing you can do about my eventual death, but I wanted to give you these.” Sepira reached into her kimono and pulled out a small, black box. When she opened the box, Knuckle and Giotto could see seven rings with crystal-like shapes on top. The rings were each a different color: orange, red, blue, green, yellow, purple, and indigo.

“Are these - ?!” Giotto inhaled sharply.

“Yes. These are part of the Tri-ni-set, the device that maintains the balance of this world. They also guide the growth and development of all life, which is why it is vital that you protect these.” Sepira handed the rings to Giotto.

“Why are there only seven?” Giotto sounded confused as he accepted the gift. “And why entrust them to me?”

“As our race died off, the power of the Tri-ni-set became too powerful for us to control. We split it in three so that the power could be manageable to humans – the guardians of them from now on,” Sepira stated as she stepped back from Giotto. She tilted her head cutely to the side. “And I give them to you because I trust you, Giotto! You’re the most honest human I’ve ever met, and your Family has a natural tact for staying alive!”

“Well, then, I thank you, Sepira. I will guard these rings with my life.” Giotto smiled at her as he opened the box of rings. Taking the orange sky ring, he slipped it onto his finger and closed his eyes in concentration. Almost immediately, a giant, strong flame burst up from the ring. Giotto jumped back, as if surprised, as Knuckle gaped in astonishment. His boss had… just set his hand on fire!!

“G-Giotto!” Knuckle cried out, rushing to his boss’ side.

“Oh, Knuckle, I forgot you don’t know about the flames that run inside everyone!” Giotto laughed before he looked into the strong flame and spoke again, this time to himself. “This power…. It took almost nothing to set it off…”

“They are more powerful than any other rings you will encounter in this world,” Sepira piped up, “besides the other sets in the Tri-ni-set, of course!”

“Sepira, is it possible to split these rings in half?” Giotto said suddenly.

“Huh?” The girl blinked at Giotto. “Why would you want to do that?”

“The power in these rings…. I fear it will be too strong for humans to handle. I trust my Family, but I can’t speak for future generations. There may come a time when the Vongola isn’t worthy enough to wield the full power of the rings. I would feel better if the rings were split – even half as powerful, they will be amazingly strong.”

Sepira stopped to think for a moment. “If that is the way you feel, Giotto, then that is possible. Who do you have in mind to guard the other half of the Vongola rings?”

“Have you heard of the CEDEF?” Giotto replied, seeming to have already given the whole thing immense thought. Knuckle was impressed, even as he cringed at the reference to his ex-lover. “It was founded by my cloud guardian, and is a secret intelligence agency that I trust to never reveal to anyone the secret of the rings. As far as anyone will know, the half rings will be the whole rings.”

“And you will even trust future generations of the CEDEF?”

“Yes. Keeping secrets is their job.”

Sepira nodded. “Then that is enough for me. I will do as you ask.”

Giotto nodded in satisfaction as he slipped the sky ring off of his finger and put it back in the box with the others before giving the whole thing back to the girl. Sepira took it and closed her eyes in concentration. A strong, white light engulfed the box that blinded Knuckle; he had to look away. When he saw the light fade out of the corner of his eye, he turned back to see that there were now two identical boxes. When Sepira opened one of the boxes, seven smaller rings shone bright and proud. They were all a silver color now, but had different shapes on them: the Vongola insignia for the sky; a whirlwind for the storm; a raindrop for the rain; a lightning bolt for the lightning; a sun for the sun; a cloud for the cloud; and several thin clouds for the mist.

“Is that okay, Giotto?” Sepira asked sweetly.

“Perfect!” Giotto laughed as he took both boxes from Sepira. “I love your sense of design!”

“Thank you, friend.” Sepira smiled warmly.

“Knuckle, I would like to spend some time to say goodbye to my dear friend.” Giotto’s voice was sad as he turned to look at his sun guardian. Knuckle soon deduced that this would probably be the last time his boss would ever see Sepira. “Will you take this box to Alaude for me? I’ll keep the other one and distribute them later… Oh, though I guess you can have yours now!”

“O-of course, boss. I would be extremely happy to!” Knuckle lied through his teeth as he accepted one of the boxes as well as his own personal sun ring.

There was no way he wanted to have to talk to Alaude. He dreaded it already. But he couldn’t just turn down his boss – not when he had trusted Knuckle enough to bring him to such an important meeting.

Knuckle trudged his feet as he left the temple and slipped the ring onto his finger. As he stared at the sun design, he sent a quick prayer up to God. Hopefully, with His guidance, the sun guardian would be able to avoid too painful of an encounter with Alaude.

 

\--

 

Hesitating outside the CEDEF’s main headquarters, Knuckle decided to test out his ring. The flame Giotto had created had been so EXTREME; he knew that God had given man the use of fire, but he never knew He had given them fire internally as well as externally. Losing focus on his surroundings, Knuckle clenched his hand in a tight fist as he tried with all of his might to force a flame out of the ring.

No flame appeared.

“For the love of God!” Knuckle muttered as he tightened his grip even more to try and get something to pop out of his ring. “Giotto made this seem so extremely easy!”

“That’s no way to ignite a flame.”

Knuckle froze, losing his concentration completely. In a split second, he had forgotten all about the ring and his internal flames. He knew who it was without having to look up; he would know that voice anywhere.

“I wouldn’t know; I never knew about them until today,” Knuckle replied defensively as he looked up into the face of Alaude.

His ex-lover was standing much closer than he expected, causing Knuckle to flinch back a little. It saddened him to realize that he was already uncomfortable with Alaude’s close proximity. The sun guardian didn’t know what to do then. He’d already forgotten about the rings and Alaude was saying nothing more, just staring at him with an unreadable expression that made Knuckle squirm nervously. Just what did he want from him?

“How did you know I was out here?” Knuckle finally asked stupidly.

“Giotto said you were coming.” Alaude’s voice was deadpanned, but a small smirk twitched on his lips when he spoke again. “And an underling saw you out here looking like you were about to explode; of course, he then brought it to my attention.”

Knuckle’s cheeks flushed. He’d hoped no one had been watching when he had tried to ignite the flame from the ring…. The ring!

“Oh yeah, Alaude, Giotto sent me here to - !” Knuckle shouted extremely before Alaude’s hand slapped over his face and the cloud guardian pushed him up against a nearby wall, pulling them out of view from passersby on the street. Knuckle panicked briefly, wondering what ulterior motive Alaude had for pushing him up against a wall, before the CEDEF founder hissed at him.

“Are you an idiot?! Do you seriously not understand the importance of this mission? This relies on the secrecy of _everyone_ involved. In other words, don’t go shouting it across the rooftops!”

“Then you know about this already?” Knuckle muttered, struggling vainly as he tried to get Alaude to release him. Alaude was basically pinning him against the wall, and the lack of togetherness for so long was giving Knuckle a hard time controlling himself. No matter what he forced his brain to think, his heart and body were still acutely tuned to every inch of Alaude.

Luckily, before things could take a wild turn for the worst, Alaude released the sun guardian and stepped back from him. “Of course I know about it. What do you take the CEDEF for?”

Knuckle didn’t reply, instead opting to focus on his breathing. His cheeks were flushed a little darker than he would have liked, and he hoped the shadows hid it from the cloud guardian in front of him.

He didn’t want Alaude to know how much he really missed him.

Avoiding eye contact, the ex-priest shoved the box of Vongola rings at his ex-lover, finally speaking once he got his voice under control. “Here. Take these then.”

Alaude hesitated for a moment before he stepped over and took the box from Knuckle. He stuffed it into his jacket before he suddenly grasped the sun guardian’s hand. Knuckle had to bite hard on his lip to prevent himself from gasping in shock, wondering why Alaude would so suddenly show signs of affection.

That was before he realized, however, that the cloud guardian was relaxing the hand with the sun ring on it.

“You’ll never spark a flame tensing up like that. Just let it flow naturally; you’ll eventually get the hang of it.” Alaude stared into Knuckle’s eyes for a moment before he withdrew, turned around, and walked away.

Knuckle watched him go, wondering if his heart would ever stop aching with longing.


	14. Daemon

Daemon was growing sick and tired of the Vongola, and he wondered how much longer he’d be able to last.

After he and Ricardo had burned down the old shack, in a fruitless attempt to send Giotto to his grave early, Daemon had been forced to follow his old family to Cozart’s mansion. Even though his house hadn’t been burnt to the ground, he still had to spy for Ricardo. It was making him sick and agitated to be around his old family, but his new boss wouldn’t move him until he revealed something useful for taking down Giotto.

And, at this rate, it would take several lifetimes.

The Vongola insisted on being completely calm and collected, despite losing their home, and were even cheerful. Giotto seemed to be happy around Cozart, for whatever reason, and the emotional turmoil that had driven the family apart had almost completely blown over. Even Alaude was more absent than usual, which took away any of the mist guardian’s opportunities for amusement. Daemon felt that he had missed his chance; if Ricardo had believed him when he had told him when they should strike, the Primo would be dead and gone and Daemon could take his rightful place as the Secondo mist guardian.

It was all so frustrating. Why couldn’t his revenge just _happen_ already?

Daemon flicked his lens against the table in boredom as he waited for Giotto to get on with his speech. His old boss had called an “A-level importance” meeting, which basically meant that everyone had to be there. As if not everyone came to the meetings, anyway.

Now as the last to arrive settled down, Giotto stood at the head of the table and cleared his throat obnoxiously.

“Everyone, as I’m sure some of you have noticed, more and more families have been incorporating the power of the internal flames within everyone’s bodies into their fighting style. Even the weakest families have turned overpowering because they are using rings and we are not. Well, now that’s going to change!”

Daemon hadn’t really been paying attention during Giotto’s spiel ( _borrrring!)_ , but he suddenly gained intense interest as his old boss pulled a box from his coat. When he opened it, seven rings glittered inside.

“So we’re using rings at last…” Daemon thought, gazing hungrily at the rings. Ricardo had already given him a ring, being his mist guardian, but the psychopath could feel that something was special about the rings that Giotto was now distributing.

These rings gave off a powerful aura, broadcasting strength. Daemon could barely wait to accept his ring from Giotto.

He knew that Giotto had a close tie to the creatures that monitored the balance of Earth. They had made all of the rings that now existed, but none were more powerful than the ones they kept guarded. If Giotto was truly special to the species, and they had waited so long to give rings to the Vongola, then there was no doubt that they would provide him and his family with the most powerful rings in the world.

Yes, these rings had to be part of the Tri-ni-Set!

When he received the ring, Daemon put it on immediately. Lighting up a flame in the next second, he admired the pure indigo color. The flame burned strongly, with no specks of other flame colors that sometimes appeared in weaker rings. Amazing… Even the _color_ broadcasted the rings’ strength!

As Daemon was distracted admiring his ring, he nearly missed Giotto speak again.

“Now, I know a lot of you have never even heard of using rings in battle, so I will be holding a practice session in the courtyard to teach anyone who needs it. That’s all for today!”

Daemon’s head snapped up as he watched four of the guardians follow Giotto out into the courtyard for the practice session. That was right…. These idiots had no idea how to even ignite the flames! That was it! That was their weakness! He had to tell Ricardo immediately!

Excitement bubbled in Daemon’s chest as he teleported out of the meeting room. Revenge would come soon!

 

\--

 

Daemon was so excited about his plan that he forgot to teleport to outside of Ricardo’s door (the Morte boss liked people to knock before just randomly teleporting into his office) and instead landed directly in the room. This was the only explanation that the mist guardian could come up with for why Ricardo looked like he was going to murder him.

Ricardo’s feet were up on his desk, which was usual for him, but his long hair was out of its ponytail and instead ratted down his back. He was writing something on a paper with one hand while his other hand flicked orange flames irritably. He had dark bags under his eyes, and he was already glaring before he looked up at Daemon. His glare deepened.

“We’ve been over this a million times, asshole. How long will it take you to remember to knock first before you just teleport in here?!” Ricardo slammed his pencil onto his desk and violently stood up from his chair. Leaning heavily on the desk, he hissed into Daemon’s unconcerned face. “What the hell is so important?”

Daemon, used to his new boss’ raging attitudes, just answered calmly. “I’ve found the Vongola’s weakness.”

This calmed Ricardo considerably. A sadistic grin upturned his snarling lips and he sat back in his chair with satisfaction. He propped his feet up on the desk again and pulled a brush out of his desk drawer before, surprisingly, starting to brush his hair with it.

“Oh? And what might that be?”

Daemon was so distracted by his boss brushing his hair that he didn’t respond for a minute. He’d never watched Ricardo take care of his hair before, and for some reason it was strangely soothing and majestic. To see such a violent creature be so calm and gentle with something was just…

“Daemon!” Ricardo was irritated again, which stopped his melodic hair brushing and allowed Daemon to snap out of his trance.

Blinking a few times in disturbed confusion, the mist guardian pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and coughed into it (old nobility habits never really went away).

“You know the flames that we ignite rings with?”

“Of course.” Ricardo started impatiently brushing his hair again, but Daemon did his best to ignore it.

“Well, as it turns out the Vongola didn’t know about it at all until today. They just got these very powerful rings, but if they don’t know how to use them then we can use that to our advantage. Plus, after that, we can steal the rings from them and use their power for our own benefits!” Pride coated Daemon’s voice as he spoke. He knew the plan would work flawlessly once Ricardo took the reins. The Vongola would never suspect a thing.

Ricardo, done brushing his hair, sat back in his chair, his hands folded under his chin in thought. Suddenly he laughed and sat back with a malicious glint in his eye.

“Daemon, you sure do come up with some twisted ideas. But I like it! Now all we have to do is set the plan in motion. I’ll send Gregario to steal some good rings for us, you’ll lure the Vongola into a pre-set trap that I’ll get Aldo and Calogero working on immediately. Then, once you get out of the way, we’ll take care of the rest….”

“Get out of the way?” Daemon interrupted with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Snorting at Daemon’s ignorance, Ricardo violently pointed a finger at his mist guardian. “What would we do if someone found out you were still alive? You know full well I can’t take the chair until _all_ of the guardians are dead.”

Daemon spluttered, his mind turning in panic. “I know all that, but I thought—”

“Thought what?” Ricardo sat forward angrily. “That you would get to kill them all yourself? Are you a complete idiot? If you killed them, I could never take the Secondo position; there’s no way I’m risking that just so you can avenge some woman.”

Anger stirred in Daemon’s chest. How dare Ricardo talk as if Elena was some sort of object…! However, before he could retaliate, Ricardo was once again standing in his personal space. His face was so close and threatening that his spit was flying onto the mist guardian’s face. “Don’t you understand that joining with me has completely ended you? The moment Giotto hits the ground, you’ll also cease to exist. You’ll still be alive, but you will live your whole life completely out of touch with the real world and your real identity.”

Daemon was speechless. His plan was slowly slipping out of his fingers. There was no way he would feel satisfied with revenge if Ricardo and his other guardians took care of the whole thing…. What was the point of all that he had done?

“What’s the matter, Daemon?” Ricardo sneered gleefully. “Isn’t hiding your identity what mist guardians are good at?”

Suddenly the fog in Daemon’s brain turned into pure anger. He pulled his lens from around his neck, lit a flame in his ring, and lunged at Ricardo. He would never let this bastard take away his one chance to avenge Elena….!

A blast of hot flame hit Daemon in the shoulder and he was thrown back into Ricardo’s office wall. When he regained his bearings, he looked up at Ricardo. The Secondo’s hand was still slightly smoking from the previous blast, even though his hand was lit in preparation for another shot.

“Don’t forget, Spade.” Ricardo’s voice was cold. “We made a deal. If you’re not going to uphold your end of it, I’ll kill you now.”

Daemon gritted his teeth. Of course he hadn’t forgotten. His life was spared only if he helped Ricardo bring down Giotto. It had just slipped his mind in his anger. He had been duped; he didn’t realize that keeping his life would require giving up his revenge. It just wasn’t fair!

“Oh?” Ricardo walked over to where Daemon was still lying on the floor and jerked up the mist guardian’s right hand to get a better look at his middle finger. “Is this the Vongola ring? Marvelous, marvelous!”

Daemon just glared at his boss as he sat back and did nothing. What could he do? He’d been played for a fool; he’d thought he had been the one holding all the strings, when in fact it had been Ricardo. He suddenly didn’t want to live forever anymore.

“Alright, trash, get out of my sight. I’ll inform you of the plan later tonight,” Ricardo spat as he threw down Daemon’s hand. The mist guardian growled at the glint of triumph in the Secondo’s eyes.

Before he could do something he would thoroughly regret, Daemon teleported to the one place he could always find comfort to address his inner turmoil.

 

\--

 

Elena’s grave was alone, as always. After Elena had abandoned the aristocracy, her family had disowned her and refused to even mention her name. Daemon wasn’t even sure that they knew she was dead.

He was the only family she’d had left. And now, he was the only one who ever visited her.

Crouching in front of her grave, Daemon brushed his fingers against the surface to clean off the dust. His façade with the Vongola had prevented him from visiting Elena as much as he’d wanted to, and the build-up of suppressed emotions had almost become too much. Not only that, but he’d missed her dreadfully; visiting her was never enough to heal that wound, but it helped some.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, succumbing to his emotions.

Only here did Daemon allow his tears to fall; only here did he submit to his grief and guilt. The mist guardian blamed Giotto for everything, which was why he was so intent on enacting his revenge, but deep inside he blamed himself for his beloved’s death. If only he hadn’t let her join the Vongola… If only he had been there when she was wounded!

“Elena, I feel like an idiot. I underestimated Ricardo; I never thought he’d actually be able to turn the tables on me. But I won’t give up on you, my love. I promise to avenge you, even if it costs me my life.” Daemon gave a small, sad chuckle and rubbed Elena’s grave affectionately. “Besides, maybe joining you early would be preferable anyway…”

Like always, as he sat there and mourned, Daemon slipped into memories of his time with Elena. It was the only way he could escape the aching pain in his heart, even if it was only temporary.

_Daemon was at one of his dreaded aristocracy parties, pretending to be decent to the thousands of people he didn’t know and who all despised him. He was slightly drunk, which was the only way he could ever survive parties like this: the tight and uncomfortable clothes, the forcefully polite socializing, the horrible food. Sometimes Daemon wondered why he stayed in the aristocracy._

_When he was freed from a boring old man complaining about the crummy image mafia forces were giving rich people (Daemon was still struggling to follow what that old fart had been talking about), Daemon staggered his way out to the balcony. The fresh air on his face was liberating; he could feel his head clear and his irritation drain from his body. If only he could stay out here for the rest of the party._

_It took him a few moments to realize there was someone else out on the balcony._

_The person was a woman: she had long, blonde wavy hair and she wore a pure white dress with matching ribbons around her neck and arms. When she turned to see who had joined her, Daemon observed that she had large, innocent looking eyes._

_She was definitely an aristocrat._

_“Oh? I suppose I’m not the only one who finds these parties a bit suffocating.” Her voice was soft and bell-like, and she looked her fellow aristocrat in the eyes when she spoke to him._

_Daemon joined her on the balcony railing, leaning his arms on its surface. “I don’t see how anyone could enjoy these parties.”_

_“Quite true,” she laughed. “Are you Daemon Spade?”_

_He looked at her, surprised. “You know me?”_

_“Of course. Everyone talks about you.”_

_Daemon scoffed and looked down on the party below. “I hate it. I wish they would leave me alone.”_

_“Then why don’t you leave?” The woman wouldn’t take her eyes off him, and he found when he looked up at her that he couldn’t take his eyes off her._

_“What do I have outside of this? At least here I have a life.”_

_“What if I came with you?”_

_Daemon blinked at the woman in surprise. Was she serious? She seemed to be—her eyes held amusement, but the tone of her voice was completely serious. But why would she leave with him? He didn’t even know her name. They were complete strangers. And yet… For some reason he wanted nothing more than to run away with this stranger._

_“What’s your name?”_

_“Elena.”_

_Months later, Daemon and Elena found themselves safely integrated into the Vongola family with the aristocracy far behind them. Elena had sympathized with Giotto’s opinions on the mafia and had decided to join Daemon when Giotto came to scout him out for his family. They were lying on the field above the shack they now called home (the run-down building was like a breath of fresh air compared to the suffocating nicety of their aristocrat home). Daemon had just returned from his first mission, covered in cuts and bruises with a broken arm to boot._

_“Really, Daemon, you have to be more careful,” Elena sighed, pasting the last bandage over Daemon’s forehead._

_“I was being careful. Crazy people just tend to have a different definition of ‘careful’ than normal people do.” Daemon nuzzled Elena’s caring hands, trying not to grimace from the pain he was experiencing._

_Elena laughed the tinkling laugh that had first helped Daemon fall in love with her. “Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy, Daemon. So you’re not crazy.”_

_Daemon smiled and leaned on his good arm, propping himself up so he could kiss his girlfriend properly. She wrapped his arms around him, and he used his now free hand to caress her cheek. When they separated, Daemon pressed his forehead against Elena’s._

_“I think you’re the only one who understands me, Elena. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” Daemon murmured._

_“Maybe you’d really go crazy,” Elena giggled. “But don’t worry; I’ll never leave you, so long as you promise you’ll never leave me.”_

_Daemon smiled. “I’d rather die.”_

_Perhaps it was naïve, but at the time the mist guardian truly believed Elena would keep her promise and that they would live together and love each other forever._

 

_\--_

 

After hours of grieving and remembering, Daemon left his only love’s grave. He walked slowly back to Ricardo’s mansion, taking time to recollect himself and think out his new plan. Ricardo had stabbed him in the back, but that didn’t mean that Daemon would just lie down and take it.

He would get his revenge. No matter what it took.


	15. Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god it’s finally done xD This is easily the longest chapter I've ever written, holy crap.   
> I feel like there’s so much I want to say, but I don’t know where to begin. I guess first of all I have to thank all of you who have read, favorited, and reviewed this story! It means so much to me that someone out there is enjoying this story, and your support has really helped me through some hard writer’s block until I’ve finally reached the end. It’s honestly kind of hard for me to believe that it’s over…  
> I also want to say right now that the battle scenes were really hard for me, since I’ve barely written battle scenes before now, so I hope they turned out okay. If you’re confused about anything, feel free to message me and I’ll do my best to explain it to you (though I hope that’s not necessary…) Also, there’s some pretty heavy scenes ahead, so you have been warned.   
> Every Primo has a POV in this chapter (and most of them have several), as well as special peeks in at Cozart and Ricardo ;D The Secondo guardians also finally get in on the action in this chapter, though it’s never from their point of view. They are mostly based off of the Varia in regards to their appearance, weapons, and abilities except for Gregario, the cloud guardian, who was based off of a combination of Hibari and Alaude. After all, I couldn’t really base him off of Moska, a robot, and most other cloud guardians don’t exist, which is really annoying. But anyway, I hope they come through with their own personalities and fighting styles and that you enjoy them; I had a lot of fun creating them :P (Also I keep forgetting Berengar’s name…. I wonder if I’ll ever remember it?)   
> Okay, I think that’s it, and I’ve rambled enough as it is. Oh, and this is the last official chapter, but I will be doing an omake of sorts with a time skip to the current tenth generation. So enjoy and thanks for reading!!

Giotto sat at Cozart’s desk, head in his hands. The orange-haired mafia don had lent the desk to him while the Vongola sought refuge at his house, in case Giotto ever needed somewhere where he could think. The sky guardian had been grateful, now so more than ever.

Earlier, Daemon had come to him with a problem. He’d told him that there was a fairly strong mafia group stirring up trouble around graveyards, beating up civilians that came to visit their deceased ones. The mist guardian claimed that it offended him personally because the graveyard they attacked frequently was the one where Elena was buried.

The Vongola boss could see that Daemon’s anger was genuine. Despite that, however, something didn’t seem right. It had been ages since the mist guardian had asked for the entire family’s help in anything. Up until this point, he’d been perfectly content taking out whole families on his own, especially if he was being personally offended.

So what had changed?

A cold shock pierced down Giotto’s spine, causing him to shiver. He had a really bad feeling about this. And, despite what he personally believed, he couldn’t stop thinking that Alaude had called Daemon a traitor.

“Giotto?” Cozart stood in the doorway, his hand held up to rap on the door frame with the back of his knuckles. “Are you coming to lunch?”

Giotto started, looking up at the clock on the wall. “Is it that time already? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You work too hard!” Cozart teased before standing to the side as Giotto got up from the desk.

Together they walked down the hall towards the dining room, where Cozart informed Giotto that the others were waiting. As they walked, the Vongola boss couldn’t help but be awkward in the silence that engulfed them. He didn’t really know how to act around Cozart anymore. Though he still cherished the other deeply as a friend, he didn’t know what to say to him. What was he supposed to talk about, knowing he was hurting his friend very deeply? What was he supposed to say to the man that was in love with him?

Unintentionally, Giotto laughed nervously. It was still unbelievable in his mind that Cozart could have romantic feelings for him. How could anyone? He didn’t think he was bothered by the fact that they were both men, but something blocked his mind from seriously considering the possibility of a relationship with Cozart. Perhaps Giotto felt too much like a single father to his family, so that watching them grow up and enter relationships was normal, but Giotto couldn’t imagine himself doing anything similar.

He suddenly felt a sharp pang of loneliness, a kind that he’d never felt before. When had his life shriveled up and died?

“Do I make you feel uncomfortable, Giotto?” Cozart spoke up suddenly, breaking Giotto out of his thoughts. For a moment, he blinked at his fellow mafia boss, not comprehending. Cozart couldn’t read minds, could he…?

It was then that Giotto remembered the laugh that he’d let escape and felt ashamed. “N-no, I…”

“It’s okay.” Cozart looked over at his friend with a sad smile. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you. I know I’ve made things awkward between us, and I truly am sorry. You’re my closest friend, Giotto.”

The Vongola boss didn’t know what to say. Everything was true what Cozart had said, which made him feel horrible. He didn’t want to hurt his closest friend like this…

“You’re my closest friend too, Cozart,” Giotto finally said as they stopped before the dining room. He couldn’t look the Shimon boss in the eye. “I’m just sorry I can’t give you what you want.”

Giotto didn’t give his friend a chance to reply as he entered the room and took a seat by Lampo. He didn’t understand why, but, through the whole lunch, he was sadder than he ever remembered being in his life.

 

\--

 

After lunch, G was pulled to the side by Giotto. The storm guardian was concerned to note that his boss looked down in the dumps, and worried what he wanted to talk to him about. Giotto had had to shoulder the largest burdens lately, and G wondered if it had finally become too much for him.

“G, has Daemon talked to you recently?” Giotto asked after the others had trickled out of the room.

“No, why?”

Glancing around, as if worried about being overheard, Giotto murmured, “Recently he brought something to my attention… A mafia group has been causing trouble in some graveyards around town. He’s asked for the entire family’s assistance.”

G raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“Don’t you think it’s strange that Daemon would ask for our assistance? He’s never done so before… Usually he just takes care of it on his own.” Giotto shuffled in closer so that he was basically whispering in G’s ear. “Especially since the graveyard it’s happening the most frequently at is where Elena is buried.”

G winced. None of this was sounding good; after Elena had died, their crazy mist guardian had never been the same. He’d been crueler when dealing with criminals and had completely isolated himself from the family. He’d done everything alone. And, despite Giotto’s firm belief, the storm guardian knew that Daemon blamed his boss and everyone else in the Vongola for the death of his beloved. Nothing since then had changed; there was no way Daemon would willingly want help from any of them.

It had to be a trap.

“I think it’s a trap of some sort,” G repeated aloud, looking his boss in the eye. He knew Giotto wouldn’t like what he was going to say. “We can’t trust Daemon – for our own good, we shouldn’t go.”

Giotto winced. “I feel the same, G, but we can’t just abandon Daemon…”

“He’s not the same, Giotto; I know this is hard for you to accept, but Daemon is not the person we once knew.”

“Isn’t that even more of a reason to help him?” Giotto had raised his voice, but then lowered it again. He looked tired; more tired than G had ever seen him. “Daemon is as much of a part of this family as anyone else. The mistake we’ve made is simple: when someone is going through hardship, we don’t do anything to help them. In most cases, our people have recovered without assistance. But that wasn’t true with Daemon: he couldn’t live without Elena, and we did nothing but let him drift away when he needed us most.

“How Daemon is now is the fault of the Vongola and the Vongola alone. It’s for this reason that we have to help him, as family.”

G sighed. He knew there was no arguing with Giotto when he was like this, even though he personally believed that there was no saving Daemon. And if he didn’t support his boss, he might go off and do something rash on his own. Hell, how could he call himself Giotto’s right-hand man and best friend if he didn’t back him up? G suddenly remembered his battle with Alaude, and reflected on what he had told him then, about uniting the family when it was time.

Maybe now was the time.

“Well, Giotto, I don’t agree with you,” G held up his hand as Giotto tried to interrupt, “but count me in. I’ll get the others riled up, if you need me to.”

The Vongola boss looked flabbergasted. “You want to help even though you’re against it…?”

“I’m your right-hand man, Giotto. My job is to support you, no matter how crazy your ideas are.” G grinned at the sky guardian before adding more seriously. “But, more importantly, I’m your friend. And dammit, I’ll always want to fight for what you believe in.”

G had been pretty proud of the speech he made, which was why he was surprised to see Giotto’s eyes water up. “Er, Giotto?”

“Thank you, G.” Giotto was suddenly hugging the storm guardian, who grunted in surprise. “Thank you.”

Hugging Giotto back awkwardly, G smiled a bit. It seemed like forever since they’d talked about anything one on one, and even though it was a serious topic, G couldn’t help but feel happy. Giotto had been the first person G had ever trusted in the world, and he was glad to see that that trust was mutual.

“And G?” Giotto spoke up sheepishly as he took a step back from the storm guardian. “Would you mind ‘riling up the others,’ as you put it? I’m afraid you’re better at that than I am.”

G grinned as he cracked his knuckles. “Right away.”

 

\--

 

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake Alaude, don’t you have any ounce of forgiveness in that black soul of yours?” G snapped, his arms crossed as he stood at the other end of Cozart’s meeting table. The other guardians were looking uneasily between the storm and cloud guardians. Giotto was leaning against a wall, eyeing Alaude carefully.

“I don’t – not for him,” Alaude replied drily.

After a real thrashing from G, the other guardians had been convinced that it was the right thing to do to help Daemon. But not Alaude: he knew what he’d seen. That bastard Morte boss was no doubt behind the whole thing and Daemon was just a pawn to draw the Vongola in. If they went, each and every one of them would be walking to their deaths. Alaude refused to be a part of that. Besides, he hated Spade anyway.

“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t go,” G demanded stubbornly.

Alaude sighed in annoyance. “I can give you several. First of all, I know Daemon’s conspiring with that Morte boss. I also know that he hates everyone in this family and would probably laugh at your deaths. Going would be suicide.”

“Do you always have to be so selfish?” A voice, barely audible, interrupted the angry retort G was about to unleash. Alaude moved his eyes over to where the voice was coming from, even though he already knew who was speaking.

Knuckle had been quiet during the whole meeting, but now he was clasping his bandaged hands tightly on the table as he glared Alaude’s way. The cloud guardian had to admit he was surprised by the level of intensity and anger in the priest’s eyes. He felt an uncomfortable twisting in his gut. He wasn’t sure he would be able to handle Knuckle’s emotions at that moment; deep down he knew he missed Knuckle terribly. But Alaude had been thrashed by his own emotions more than he would’ve liked, and he was sick and tired of it. He hated that he cared so much, that he was hurt by Knuckle’s cold refusal. He hated that he wished he had his priest back, hated to admit that he felt lonely without him. But they’d hurt each other so much that it would be impossible to go back. Alaude just wished they could stop more pain from being added on to the whole mess and that his emotions would leave him alone.

However, the sun guardian obviously didn’t feel the same.

“When someone extremely needs help, you give it to them! You don’t wait for them to offer you something in return!” Knuckle was standing now, deep anger and pain in his voice. “But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

The words stung. Alaude narrowed his eyes, trying to keep his emotions in check. He was more hurt than he felt he should be, especially since he knew that his ex-lover was right. Why did it have to bother him so much?

“Fine. Go then. Just know I won’t be crying over your death.”

“I will. And I know that God will be waiting for me when I do.” The extreme fire in Knuckle’s eyes as he glared at him angered Alaude. There it was again, God rearing his ugly head. Ultimately, it was just the same as it had always been: for the sun guardian it had always been a question of religion or love. And now, the cloud guardian knew, Knuckle had firmly chosen religion.

There was no going back.

“Then I guess it’s settled,” Giotto butt in, glancing warily at Alaude. “Though you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Alaude.”

All eyes were on the cloud guardian, but he didn’t care. He was too upset to care.

When he didn’t respond, Giotto eyed each of the other guardians in turn. “Then we’ll leave tomorrow morning. Until then, everyone should prepare both mentally and physically. We don’t know what we’ll face tomorrow, but we want to be as ready as possible. Oh, and try to sleep well! You’ll need it.”

With that, the meeting adjourned, and the guardians meandered their way out of the meeting room. Alaude stayed put, deep in thought. He pretended he didn’t notice Knuckle’s hard gaze on him as the sun guardian stormed out.

He couldn’t physically relax until he was alone.

He didn’t want to feel the way he did. He hated it. _He_ wasn’t supposed to be the one who cared: he was the passive cloud guardian who never let anything trump him! And yet, here he was, still missing Knuckle, while the sun guardian had obviously moved on. It was pathetic, and he was ashamed and angry at himself.

But that didn’t stop the pain. How he _despised_ emotions.

After a lot of thought, Alaude reluctantly made up his mind. Knuckle was going to go and Alaude _did_ care, whether he wanted to or not. There was nothing he could do – it hurt him too much for him to control. So he would go after all. But he wouldn’t be fighting for Daemon; he was a selfish man, after all, and he would only stand up for his best interests.

He had to protect Knuckle, and that was something he was willing to fight for.

 

\--

 

Knuckle steamed in anger as he returned to his room to prepare for the expedition the next day. As much as he tried to focus his mind, he couldn’t help but continue to be bothered by Alaude’s selfishness. How a human being could be so extremely uncaring was unacceptable to him, especially since he knew that Alaude _could_ be caring. He liked to pretend he wasn’t, but the sun guardian knew the truth.

What he couldn’t understand was why Alaude always wanted to conceal it, and why he always showed his uncaring side when it mattered most.

A familiar pain pierced Knuckle’s heart and his anger wavered. Alaude had pretended not to care when they’d broken off their relationship, but then turned against all of his beliefs and came back to try and get Knuckle back again. And what had the priest done? He had pretended he didn’t care; he had pretended he didn’t know how much both he and Alaude were hurting from what had happened and had shoved away the person that meant the most to him. He had acted exactly like his ex-lover.

Knuckle felt ashamed. He had no right to judge people when he was just a heart-broken hypocrite.

For the first time since the split, Knuckle seriously wondered if it was possible to be with Alaude again, if the cloud guardian would even let him. He’d always thought that he and Alaude were like dog and cat; there were no similarities, they were polar opposites, and every sacrifice had to be made to make it work. It had been tiring, on both their parts, and was probably what had helped to drive them apart. But now Knuckle realized they were more alike than he’d thought. Maybe it was possible to love again, but in a different way. Maybe they could set aside their differences and focus on the similarities that made it enjoyable to be together.

However…

Shaking his head, Knuckle focused on his preparation. It was ridiculous to think this way when he had pushed Alaude away for good. The cloud guardian was too proud to take him back now. The ex-priest had to get it into his head that it was over, and nothing he could do could change that.

Besides, his desires were sinful. He had gone astray, but now he knew he had to go back on the path that God had laid out for him. His love had saved Knuckle more than he could ever be grateful for, and to betray Him like he’d done when he’d loved another man was shameful. He wasn’t worthy of God’s love. Nothing he could do could make up for it, but he would have to start by cleansing his mind of all of his sinful thoughts and shameful desires.

However, unlike all of the times when he’d told himself those same words, Knuckle found he wasn’t convinced. Why had he been punished for loving? Was the happiness he’d had with Alaude really so impure that it was better for him to suffer? It was hard to believe that God was really saving him.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, Knuckle stared down at his bandaged hands in horror. What had he been thinking?! How could he doubt God?! God was all he had left in the world! He had helped him through all of the hardships in his life, and he was really going to give up on that protection over one fantasy?

Shaking, Knuckle raised a hand to his mouth as he felt he was going to be sick. He couldn’t control his thoughts anymore.

“Oh God, I’m too far gone,” he whispered, feeling hot tears slip down his cheeks. With the things he’d done and the things he’d thought, there was no way God would lend a protecting hand. Knuckle knew that he didn’t deserve to be forgiven, but he couldn’t help but cry. His life was cracking at the seams.

He was damned.

 

\--

 

Ugetsu lay in bed, G cuddled into his side, unable to sleep. Staring up at the ceiling, he tried to imagine what would happen the next day. G had berated him for it, but no matter what he said, Ugetsu couldn’t shake his trust in Daemon; he couldn’t believe that someone he’d fought alongside with and who he considered a close friend would turn around and stab him in the back.

He stubbornly believed that this was Daemon’s method of apologizing for his actions during his grief.

“Can’t sleep?” G grumbled as he lifted his head to look at Ugetsu, his eyes narrow slits. He was exhausted, the rain guardian could see that, but he obviously hadn’t been able to sleep either. Ugetsu felt a familiar pang of sympathy for his lover’s insomnia.

“No… I suppose I am anxious about tomorrow.” Ugetsu drew G closer to him and placed a small kiss on his forehead. “Silly of me, huh?”

“I don’t think it’s silly at all,” G growled, getting defensive suddenly. “You would be a damn fool if you weren’t worried about going into battle.”

Ugetsu laughed. “I guess, but worrying myself into insomnia is not going to help, either.”

G huffed, blowing hot air into the sky and making his bangs float momentarily. “It’s never affected me.”

“That is because you are used to it, love,” Ugetsu hummed, resting his chin on G’s forehead as he pulled his fingers lightly through red strands. He brushed out rats as he came to them, as G’s hair was messy from his restlessness.

“Whatever. I’m going back to trying to sleep.” G rolled over, out of the rain guardian’s grasp. He curled into a ball near the edge of the bed, his back to Ugetsu. The flutist rolled over as well, wrapping his arms around G’s skinny waist as he spooned the storm guardian.

Even though he sensed that G didn’t feel like talking, Ugetsu had something on his mind that he had to get rid of. “Hey, G?”

“What?”

He only sounded slightly irritated. That was a good sign.

“G, when this is all over, will you marry me?”

G rolled over abruptly, accidentally knocking his shoulder into Ugetsu’s face. The rain guardian whimpered in pain, rubbing his injured skin as G stared at him in disbelief. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

Ugetsu blinked at G, surprised. “No, I am not.”

“Then why ask stupid questions like that?!” G hissed as he sat up; Ugetsu sat up as well. “You know damn well we can’t get married!”

“I know that,” Ugetsu pouted stubbornly, “but surely it is not illegal for us to wear rings?”

“Don’t tell me you have a ring.”

Ugetsu got up from the bed, walking blindly through the dark to the small desk that sat on the other side of the room. Fumbling around, accidentally knocking things to the floor in the process, Ugetsu took forever finding the drawer that had the ring in it. When he eventually found it, he returned to the bed and presented it to his red-haired lover. “I do.”

G sighed in exasperation as he stared at the ring. Ugetsu couldn’t read his expression. “What’s the point? It doesn’t symbolize anything.”

“Sure it does!” Ugetsu argued, feeling anxiety build up in his chest. Why was G being so hesitant about the whole thing? “It symbolizes our love and devotion. It does not matter that we are not married.”

“And what do we say when people ask us who we’re married to?” G pushed Ugetsu’s hand away. “It’s too dangerous; we could both get arrested, or even killed.”

“Would you not marry me if you could?” Ugetsu whispered sharply, his unease skyrocketing.

G hissed in anger. “Of _course_ I would, but you don’t seem to understand: I fucking _can’t!_ Why is that so hard for you to understand?! Do you wish I was a woman?!”

Ugetsu recoiled, stung. “Of course I do not, G! I love you, just as you are, and I want to spend my life with you! What is so wrong about that?”

“Nothing! We can spend our lives together without that thing!” G took the ring out of Ugetsu’s hand and threw it on the floor. Ugetsu flinched as it hit the floor, hoping it wasn’t broken; he’d spent nearly all of his savings to buy it.

“Ugetsu, look at me.” G put both of his hands on Ugetsu’s face, forcing the rain guardian to look at him. Ugetsu stared into his eyes, hoping G couldn’t see the frustration that was starting to build up in his chest. “I’m touched. Truly, I am.”

“You do not sound touched,” Ugetsu retorted under his breath. G glared at him.

“Let me finish, bastard. When I fell in love with you, there were literally no words I knew that could describe how I felt. The only way I could express myself was to show it to you. Nothing on earth could adequately explain how much I love you.” G waved his hand in the general direction of the ring and, as Ugetsu stared at him in the dark, he realized that the storm guardian was blushing darkly. “I can’t justify symbolizing my love for you through a damn ring because it could never be enough to do our relationship any justice. I love you too much for some tiny ass ring.”

Immediately, all of Ugetsu’s anxiety and frustration melted away, replaced by warmness and fuzziness. He forgot all about the ring as he pulled G to him, kissing him passionately, trying to spread the extreme love that had suddenly blossomed in his chest.

When they parted, Ugetsu couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “G, I think that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me.”

G scoffed, but Ugetsu could see a small smile on his face. “Damn straight. So now do you understand?”

“Yes, I do,” hummed the rain guardian. He couldn’t stop smiling. “So let us forget all about it, okay?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” G sighed in relief. Mapping out the rain guardian’s face in the dark with his fingers, G pulled Ugetsu into another kiss.

As Ugetsu pushed his lover down on the bed, and G reached up to start pulling off his shirt, he didn’t know if he could contain the extreme happiness he felt. It elated him, and he felt light-headed with joy as he made love to G.

When they were done, and Ugetsu felt warm and snuggy with G in his arms, he found he had no trouble drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, Ugetsu got up early to prepare and cook breakfast for the others. However, as he walked down the hallway, he was surprised to see Cozart talking to Giotto ahead. He ducked behind a wall before they could notice him. He didn’t know what compelled him to hide; he just had a feeling that he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be listening to. He felt ashamed as he settled in to eavesdrop.

“So you’re all going somewhere?” Cozart was asking, leaning casually on the wall of the corridor. He was looking straight at Giotto, but the Vongola boss didn’t meet his gaze as he fidgeted awkwardly.

“Yes… Our mist guardian contacted us with a problem, so we’re going to help him.”

“Ah. Well, promise to be careful, okay?” Cozart reached forward to squeeze Giotto’s arm, causing him to flinch and glance to the side. “Giotto, look at me. Please. I can’t stand talking to you like this.”

“I’m sorry…” Giotto glanced into Cozart’s face for a fraction of a second before he looked away again. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

With that, Giotto turned and walked hurriedly down the corridor, leaving Cozart to look after him. Ugetsu felt his heart break as he watched Cozart’s facial expressions; he’d never seen a man look so lonely and sad.

Deciding that then was as good a time as any, Ugetsu stepped out from his hiding place and walked towards Cozart. The man jumped in surprise, before he recognized the rain guardian and forced a strained smile on his face. “Ugetsu! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“It is quite alright.” Ugetsu decided to fake ignorance. “But what are you doing standing around out here?”

The rain guardian could see Cozart swallow before he laughed painfully. “Oh, I was just talking to Giotto. It was nothing, really. But anyways, good luck on your mission, yeah?”

Ugetsu opened his mouth to say something, but Cozart was already hurrying down the corridor, in the opposite direction that Giotto had gone just moments prior. The flutist watched him go, feeling a deep sympathy for the poor Shimon boss. He’d been in the same position so many times before.

He decided that, if for no other reason, he would make sure Giotto came back for Cozart.

 

\--

 

Daemon didn’t like the plan. Not one bit. To place the fight on top of Elena’s grave was the icing on his cake of anger. How _dare_ Ricardo use him like this… With everything the Morte boss did, the mist guardian grew more and more determined that he would pull the rug out from under Ricardo. His plan was risky, but Daemon had nothing to lose.

He followed Ricardo as the Secondo led his family to where the battle was to take place. Daemon didn’t really need to follow; he could close his eyes and still walk surely to his destination.

He’d been here too many times before.

When they reached the pitiful graveyard, Daemon realized that for the first time he felt rage rather than sadness at Elena’s final resting place. The anger he’d tried so hard to control was about nearly to burst; he couldn’t stand that the person getting in the way of his revenge was here, in his sanction, intruding on Elena’s spirit.

It took all of the world’s energy to calm himself. He had to keep his mind focused on the plan, or he really would lose everything.

Stopping with the group halt, Daemon watched passively as Ricardo began organizing the guardians’ positions. The graveyard was small, and was stuck in the middle of a big condo complex. The area had all been cleared away after Elena had died, and the mist guardian felt as much anger at these intruding buildings as he did at Giotto himself. It seemed like everything in the world was trying to disrespect his beloved.

But he kept his anger in check, for he knew these buildings would be useful to him.

Ricardo’s plan was to plant each guardian (minus Daemon) on top of one of the buildings, the ramp-like condo roofs doing well to hide them from passersby below while giving the guardians a perfect view of their surroundings. The Vongola would be unable to know what hit them as they strolled recklessly into the graveyard. The best part was that the roofs were only accessible by creaky metal ladders that hung from the back of each building.

It was the best part, for the guardians would be completely out of sight of one another as they climbed to their positions.

Daemon smirked to himself as Ricardo sent his guardians to their respective buildings. He watched Aldo go, calculating how long it would take him to get to the ladder. He couldn’t mess up the timing, or the whole plan would collapse before it even began.

“Spade.” Daemon snapped to attention at Ricardo’s growl. “Wipe that smirk off your face and scram before I have to force you out.”

The mist guardian felt another surge of anger, but bit his lip to conceal it and forced himself into a bow that a butler would give his master. “Right away.”

As Daemon prepared to teleport away, Ricardo held his gaze. “Remember our deal.”

Oh the aristocrat remembered all right; all too well. Daemon allowed himself to grimace as he whisked himself away. He would make Ricardo pay: the Morte boss would regret the day he tried to get the better hand of Daemon Spade. No one got there alive, _no one._

Daemon pictured where Aldo must be at that moment, and willed his particles to reassemble there. When he opened his eyes, he saw the surprised expression on Aldo’s face and grinned maliciously as he knew he was correct. Before the bewildered rain guardian could even think to bring his katana out, the mist guardian’s beloved scythe was in his hand and he slashed the deadly instrument down Aldo’s chest.

Blood splattered on Daemon’s cheeks and he had to stop himself from laughing maliciously. Ricardo had to suspect that nothing was wrong.

Once he knew for sure that Aldo was dead, the mist guardian kneeled to study the man. He’d never paid much attention to him before, but now he had to take in every detail. Daemon activated his Vongola ring, never taking his eyes off of Aldo as mist began to surround him. When the mist dispersed, Daemon felt no different – he wasn’t supposed to. He just had to make sure the illusion was convincing.

Standing, Daemon looked behind him into a window of the condo. In the reflection he saw a tall man with long, dark blue hair and piercing gray eyes. A sword case was strapped to his back, and he was donned in a black suit that matched Ricardo and the other Morte guardians.

Satisfied, the mist guardian flicked his hair back. With the amazing power of the Vongola ring, no one would be able to see through his illusion. Even Giotto’s Hyper Intuition would be fooled.

Holding back crazed laughter, Daemon dragged the body of the real Aldo into the shadows of the building before activating his ring again and engulfing the corpse in indigo mist. When that was done, Daemon began to climb up the ladder to the roof. The first step of his plan had gone smoothly, so all he had to do was lie low until he could carry out the next part.

Nothing could stop him now.

 

\--

 

Lampo shivered in fear as he followed Giotto to the graveyard. He didn’t like this at all. He’d changed his mind: he didn’t want to go on missions anymore. He wanted to stay home and play video games and pretend that he did something productive. He wanted to sit with his family on the couch and watch the World Cup or have a snowball fight with G. He wanted to be five again and sit on Giotto’s lap without a care in the world. He didn’t want to walk towards this ominous graveyard where hungry Mafioso waited to rip them to pieces. If even Daemon couldn’t handle them on his own…

He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to watch everyone he cared about die.

“Lampo?” Giotto was next to the teen suddenly, concern shining in his eyes as he looked down at him. “Are you alright?”

Though Lampo was shaking out of his boots, he tried to give a brave front to his boss. After all, he was the one constantly begging to go on missions. “Oh, fine. Nothing wrong here, nope, no siree.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Giotto replied, seeing right through Lampo. “I’m scared, too.”

“Then why are we going?” Lampo’s voice cracked, and he felt that at any moment he would burst into tears and run for home. “Why can’t we just stay at home and watch the World Cup, like we always used to? Why can’t we just be a family?”

“Daemon’s a part of that family too, Lampo, and that’s why we must go. When a family member is in trouble, we all have to pitch in and help.” Giotto gave Lampo a sideways glance. “Besides, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”

“No! It isn’t!” Lampo felt hysteric with fear. “I didn’t ask for this! I don’t want everyone to die!”

“Lampo.” Giotto stopped Lampo, putting a hand on his shoulder and staring directly into the teen’s eyes. “No one is going to die. We’re being cautious because we don’t know what to expect, but no one will die. I won’t allow it.”

When Lampo didn’t reply, Giotto smiled and ruffled his hair. “You’re letting what Alaude said get to you.”

“But how do we know he isn’t right? What reason would he have to lie to us?”

“He isn’t lying; he truly believes what he says. But I believe he’s too quick to judge Daemon. In order to save him, we have to give him a second chance. If he sees that we trust him, then it’ll be easier for him to trust us.” Giotto sighed. “Maybe it’s a good thing Alaude decided not to come along.”

“And what if he does betray us? Do we have a back-up plan?”

Giotto turned away and began to walk forward again, trailing after the other guardians that had moved on without them. He gazed straight ahead and wouldn’t look at Lampo. “He won’t betray us.”

Suddenly remembering the incident he’d witnessed what seemed like months ago, Lampo opened his mouth to tell Giotto about Daemon helping Ricardo burn the shack down. It was about time that the Vongola boss knew – maybe then he’d be more willing to reconsider going to the graveyard to help Daemon. However, Giotto had already hurried out of range, and the teen could tell by his tense form that he wasn’t willing to hear doubts to his beliefs. Lampo sighed.

All he knew as he reluctantly followed after Giotto was that he didn’t share his boss’ enthusiasm, and he was more terrified than he’d been already.

The graveyard was spooky. An ominous wind blew through the air, ruffling grass and the Vongola guardians’ hair. The sky was overcast, dark clouds promising rain. Small tombstones dotted the small area, seemingly without any order whatsoever, where occasionally small vases of wilted flowers rested sadly. No one had been there for a long time, and no one was there now.

Still, Lampo felt a foreboding chill creep up his spine.

“Giotto, I don’t see any—”

“Lampo!”

Crackling like fireworks, something flew by Lampo at a speed that his scared mind was unable to comprehend. Stiffening, the teen glanced to the side to see what had nearly caused his death. It was sticking up out of the ground, a foot or two away from where Lampo was standing, sizzling with lightning. It was made out of solid wood and made a slight curve at the top; on closer inspection, Lampo identified the object to be a cane.

… A cane?!

“Drat. I missed.”

All of the guardians seemed to unfreeze at the same moment. They spun around, each warily trying to find the culprit that had spoken. It wasn’t until Lampo glanced upwards, from where he’d thought the cane had come from, that he saw a figure standing on one of the roofs on the condos surrounding the graveyard.

“There!” He cried, pointing wildly in the direction of the figure. He felt his pulse quicken in fear as he recognized the man.

It was Damiano, Ricardo’s lightning guardian. He was hunched forwards, leaning on top of another cane sparked with electricity, his pierced tongue sticking out mockingly at the mafia family below. “Hey there, punks! Glad to see ya joined the party!”

“Damiano!” Giotto growled, his hands slowly clenching into fists. “What are you doing here?!”

However the man just shrugged, a smug smirk on his face. “Why dontcha ask the boss?”

“Ricardo is here, too?!” The guardians spun around, trying to face all directions at once. Lampo scanned the rooftops of the other condos, but he couldn’t see very well from his position on the ground.

The simultaneous attack came out of nowhere. It was as if every Morte guardian had struck the ground where the Vongola were standing at once: fire erupted in the old, dry grass of the graveyard and loud explosions knocked Lampo off his feet. When he was able to stand, he saw with horror that he’d been separated from the other guardians by steady walls of flames. He was instantly reminded of the shack when it had been lit on fire, and he had no doubt that Ricardo had been the culprit. Coughing, Lampo tried to find a way back to Giotto.

He didn’t want to face what happened next alone.

“And where do ya think ya’re going, pipsqueak?!” Damiano shouted as an electrified cane stabbed the ground right in front of Lampo.

The teen squeaked in fear and backed away from the cane slowly, as if it would bite him if he wasn’t careful. He didn’t know what to do; all of his battle training flew out of his brain in an instant.

Damiano laughed. “This’ll be too easy!”

Ahead, Lampo could see the blurry figures of his family. They were almost all separated from each other, though G and Ugetsu had managed to stick together, and, on closer inspection, the teen noticed that they were all fighting rooftop figures, none other than the Secondo guardians themselves. Trembling, Lampo turned to face Damiano.

He was scared shitless. But, seeing his family fighting so hard, he knew he had to as well. He couldn’t let people like this succeed Giotto.

Feeling a spurge of courage, Lampo squared off bravely as he pulled his wok from its carrying case on his back. He slashed it through the air dramatically before bringing it up in a defensive position as he glared at Damiano.

To his dismay, the other lightning guardian just laughed. “What’s that? A fryin’ pan?”

Ignoring the taunt, Lampo activated his Vongola ring and discretely started pulsing lightning into the black wok. “It’s a _wok!_ Obviously you know nothing about anything!”

“Hah?!” Lampo felt a small pit of satisfaction as Damiano got visibly angrier. “Whaddja say?!”

The wok shuddered in Lampo’s hands, signaling him that it was ready to fire. Nervousness shot through him; he had recently mastered what he called “Corna Fulmine,” and he hoped he would still be able to activate it. Lampo took a deep breath.

“I said,” the teen yelled as he sliced the wok in an arc, firing intense beams of lightning up towards the roof at the Morte lightning guardian, “it’s a **_wok!!_** ”

Damiano shouted in surprise and pain as the lightning hit him, and Lampo pumped his fist in satisfaction that it had worked. He didn’t have long to celebrate, however, as a cane flew at him and he barely raised his wok to protect himself in time. The wood bounced uselessly off the black pan and rolled dejectedly onto the ground. Lampo breathed a sigh of relief.

“Damn brat!” Damiano screamed from the rooftop.

Lampo looked up at him to see how much damage his attack had done. He appeared to have minor burns all over his skin and his blond Mohawk had become frizzy from the electricity. The teen was sure that another direct attack would probably do enough damage to knock Damiano out. And, once that happened, Lampo could try to make it back to Giotto again.

Silently, he began streaming electricity into his wok again.

“Oh no ya don’t – don’t think I’m gonna fall for that again!” The Morte lightning guardian shouted as he pulled six canes from out of nowhere and spiked them with electricity. He threw them at Lampo with an angry roar.

They all missed. They landed in the area all around Lampo, making the teen laugh in disbelief. He couldn’t believe it! He was half the guy’s age and he had better accuracy than that!

“Ha! You missed me!” Lampo laughed gleefully. The wok shuddered in his hand. Cockily, he swung the wok in an arc again and shot the lightning bolts up onto the roof with a mighty roar of, “Corna Fulmine!!”

Just before the lightning hit him, Damiano called out. “Better look again, kid!”

Surprised, Lampo did what he was told and looked around at the canes. Immediately he saw what he had missed: originally, he’d assumed that the electricity had died out as soon as the canes had missed their mark. What he had failed to observe was that the sticks were still crackling with strong electricity, and that they had surrounded Lampo as they prepared to fire. Lampo gulped in fear.

Damiano had missed on purpose.

All at once, the canes emitted powerful electricity into the center of their arranged circle, which was Lampo. The teen screamed in agony as the energy hit him. He’d never suffered from the attack that he’d thrown at other people before; it felt like his soul was being ripped out. The attack seemed to last an eternity. His entire body burned with pain and he was starting to have trouble staying conscious. But he had to. He couldn’t go down for the count now.

He realized now that the Morte were out to kill. Giotto had always instructed him never to kill anyone, to be so strong it wouldn’t be necessary, but now Lampo knew it was a fight to the death. If he blacked out now, he would surely die. He had to stay alive, for Giotto.

Which meant he had to kill Damiano.

Lampo whimpered as the electricity died off and he collapsed to the ground, panting. He felt mud in his fingertips and wondered when it had started raining; that was before he noticed that the mud was actually becoming wet from his own blood. It was dripping off him like crazy, creating pools of sticky liquid beneath him. He was too busy trying not to retch to even figure out how bad his wounds were if he was losing this much blood.

Focusing himself with some effort, Lampo scanned the area for his wok. He had dropped it at some time when the electricity struck him, and he hoped it was nearby. With a happy exclamation, he saw that the pan was sitting only a few inches from where he lay. Slowly, the teen stretched out a hand to grab it.

“There’s somethin’ ya gotta learn, kid.” Damiano was suddenly next to Lampo. He was dripping with blood from the injuries that Lampo had given him, but the teen could see that they weren’t as serious as the ones he was suffering from. Damiano lifted his foot to stomp on Lampo’s outstretched fingers. The teen let out a muffled cry of pain. “In battle, _never_ let go of yar weapon.”

While Lampo writhed in pain, the Morte lightning guardian leaned over and picked up the wok. With a malicious grin that sent shivers down the teen’s spine, he snapped the thing in half.

Lampo looked up in horror. That thing was solid steel…! How could someone just snap it like it was a twig?! But more importantly, Damiano had just destroyed Lampo’s only weapon and defense mechanism in one fell swoop. The teen was completely defenseless.

Refusing to give up, the Vongola lightning guardian grabbed Damiano’s foot and pulled up on it. The Morte lightning guardian cried out in surprised as he toppled over and Lampo jumped on top of him.

The two rolled around in the mud, trying to get leverage on each other. Lampo, fueled through his fear and adrenaline, was able to pin Damiano down a few times before he would be pushed off and the two would resume their struggle. They kicked at each other’s nuts, strangled their necks, and overall tried to break any bone they could. Blood splashed into Lampo’s mouth and eyes and he was so disoriented and focused on hurting Damiano that he couldn’t tell whose blood it was.

Eventually, however, Lampo lost his energy. He was losing too much blood from his wounds, causing his eyes to blur. His attacks were weakening, and he could see the glee in Damiano’s eyes. The Morte lightning guardian knew he was winning. He pushed Lampo down into the mud firmly and straddled him as the teen struggled to free himself. His adrenaline had abandoned him, and now he was just struck with fear.

He didn’t want to die.

Lampo trembled as Damiano grabbed his face in his hands, pulling the teen’s upper body upright. He struggled, but he had lost so much blood that he could barely move. His energy was draining fast. The Morte lightning guardian grinned maliciously as he rubbed his thumb over the lightning tattoo under Lampo’s right eye. The teen flinched.

“Ah, what’s this? A wittle symbol of bravery for the wittle baby?” Damiano cooed. “Well, ya don’t really need it anymore, right?”

Lampo screamed as Damiano raised his electrified cane to his cheek and began burning the tattoo off. Trying to forget the pain, the teen remembered when Giotto had finally let him get the tattoo. He had been so excited; he had believed it was his ticket to manhood and official guardianship. Of course, it hadn’t really granted him either of those things, but he’d felt so good about it that he’d become unbearably cocky until G had beaten some sense into him.

He still loved the tattoo, but now he wished he’d never gotten it. He didn’t have the right to claim he was the proper lightning guardian. He’d never done anything in that title; he’d never done anything, period.

His life had been a waste.

Lampo found himself crying. He was ashamed of his laziness, he was ashamed of being a kid, he was ashamed of being weak, he was ashamed of crying in front of the enemy, he was ashamed that he had never amounted to anything. He’d never made Giotto proud.

“This is pathetic, kid,” Damiano growled, suddenly unamused by the whole thing. “Time to end this!”

He took the burning cane from Lampo’s face and threw him back on the ground. Lampo landed hard on his elbow and he heard bone shatter. Weakly, with his functional arm, the teen gingerly touched his face where the tattoo had been. Instead of smooth skin he felt raw and bloody patches of tissue. All he could feel was pain everywhere and knew that he would die from loss of blood soon if he didn’t do something. He cried harder.

“Shaddup, kid! I can’t stand whining!” Damiano shouted in annoyance as he stabbed his alit cane deep into Lampo’s stomach.

Lampo let out a gurgled scream, blood splashing out of his mouth. There was so much pain, and so much blood… The teen could feel the red, sticky liquid seeping through his clothes. Tears and blood ran down his face.

He knew it was over, and that he could never change his life for the better, even before his eyes dimmed and he released his last breath.

 

\--

 

Dust and fire whirled everywhere. Knuckle lowered his arms as he squinted to see through the debris, and found that he had been separated from the other Vongola guardians. So much for sticking together. When he glanced up at the rooftops, he saw that Calogero, the Morte sun guardian, stood on the roof in front of him, taunting him, but found he could barely hear him over the sounds of battle coming from elsewhere in the graveyard.

“I’m glad we’re alone at last! My, but you are a gorgeous young fellow, aren’t you?” Calogero gushed, his hands holding his cheeks.

Knuckle narrowed his eyes up at him, feeling an uncomfortable twisting in his gut. Was he extremely being hit on? Was even this bald man, completely unacquainted with him, conscious of the sins that the Vongola sun guardian had committed? He sighed. It seemed like, lately, everything was just a painful reminder of Alaude.

He forced his thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on such matters.

“It’s too bad I have to kill you!” Calogero suddenly shouted, causing Knuckle to look up sharply as the man jumped off the roof. At first, the sun guardian thought he was crazy: who to the extreme jumped off several story buildings?! However, he soon realized that the man had done it because he knew he could, and began to focus on where he planned to land. Tracking his projectile, the priest jumped back as he barely avoided the bald sun guardian crashing to the ground. His landing cracked the ground, and a huge crater appeared where Calogero stood up straight, unharmed by the inhuman jump.

Knuckle swallowed, bringing his arms up in a boxing stance. That was an extreme leap.

“Hm?” Calogero licked his lips as he lunged towards Knuckle. “You have good reflexes, too! I simply _love_ that in a man!”

Bringing his arms up in defense, Knuckle blocked Calogero’s punches with his forearms. It had been a long time since he’d boxed, but he was glad to see that many of his old practices were still in place. He’d trained the day before, knowing that going in out of shape would do no good, but he had worried about his footwork since he hadn’t had anyone to spar with. However, he found himself matching the bald sun guardian’s pace and felt an old stirring in his spirit.

He had originally hung up his boxing gloves when he became a preacher because he had taken to heart the morale to love your neighbors. He didn’t want to fight anyone. He didn’t want anyone to be injured because of his fighting ever again.

Now, however, he knew he was fighting to protect those he cared about. He could never forgive himself, nor did he think God would want him to, if he stood back and watched the people he cared about killed just because he refused to fight and help them. He would never let that happen, especially not if they were family.

Despite the horror of what had happened so long ago, Knuckle found himself elated by the heat of the competition. He would _win_ ; he would proudly protect his title of undefeated and along with it his family.

“You know,” Knuckle panted as he dug his feet firmly into the ground and brought back his fist to punch Calogero in the face, “you might not want to get too attached!”

His punch sent Calogero flying back to the crater, where he caught himself and stood up again. There was a trail of blood dripping down his lip, but his eyes looked gleeful. The bald man wiped the blood trail away with the back of his hand before advancing towards Knuckle again.

The priest was ready for him. Their arms crossed, muscle straining against muscle, almost as if they were crossing swords. Calogero leaned forward eagerly, and Knuckle wrinkled his nose at his fish breath. “But getting attached is what makes it interesting!”

Glancing down, Knuckle saw an opening for him as he whipped his leg up, smashing it into Calogero’s left leg. To his surprise, pain shot up his leg as Calogero remained standing, against all odds. He was then easily knocked off balance by the other sun guardian, who was grinning in amusement. As he rolled to the ground, the priest studied Calogero. How could he have been completely unharmed by his kick?! From where Knuckle had aimed, it should’ve crippled the bald man instantly! Instead, the Vongola sun guardian had been harmed, and Calogero was now advancing triumphantly towards him.

Igniting his sun ring to pump healing flames into his body, Knuckle stood abruptly and once again took a defensive position as Calogero came at him with swift fists. The priest watched him closely. He had briefly noticed it before, but now it was even more obvious: Calogero was favoring his left side. All of his body weight was shifted to the right, as if the leg that Knuckle had kicked wasn’t in perfect condition. But it was rock hard! What could be wrong with it?!

Taking advantage of what he’d learned, Knuckle zipped underneath the bald man’s right arm, grabbing the man’s body and flipping him onto his back. As the Morte sun guardian slammed into the ground, his left pant leg hitched up and exposed the leg underneath.

It all clicked in Knuckle’s mind as he caught a glimpse of the prosthetic leg. All of Calogero’s fighting styles, the way he favored his left side, made sense now. He now realized why the Morte sun guardian had been able to survive the priest’s attack to his knee, why he had survived the harsh jump from the condo rooftop.

Calogero gingerly picked himself up off the ground. A large smirk covered his face. “So you noticed! Then I don’t have to hold back anymore!”

Knuckle barely swung his head back in time as the bald sun guardian’s prosthetic leg came swinging at him, coated in sun flames. Thinking fast, he grabbed hold of the leg, shivering as the cold metal shocked his skin, and used Calogero’s momentum against him as he flipped him up and over. As he slammed him into the ground again, Knuckle was surprised to hear that the other was laughing. He was badly bruised, Knuckle could tell, and yet he still had the strength to get up again. The priest had to admit that he admired that, even if he realized it was probably helped along by the sun flames; he had always loved passion that overrode physical injury.

“Marvelous! You’re marvelous, Knuckle!” Calogero giggled as he leaned heavily on his left leg, using it to help him stand. “I could really fall for a man like you!”

Knuckle was starting to get extremely annoyed by the bald man’s constant talks of his attraction to him. First of all, it was extremely creepy! Second of all, they were enemies, and one of them was likely not to make it out of this alive. Third of all…

“Sorry, but I’m taken.” The Vongola sun guardian surprised himself as he said it. One would think he’d remember that he wasn’t with Alaude anymore after everything that had happened. Wincing, Knuckle noted that it must be his damned thoughts running out of control again. He added hastily, “Er, by God.”

Calogero frowned. “Poo; you religious men are no fun!”

As the bald man came at him again, Knuckle had a fleeting wish that Alaude was there so he could beat up the man and make him stop with his stupid attraction comments. Catching himself, and crushing the thought, the priest allowed himself to become angry. Alaude had no reason to defend him, so he had to stop pretending like he did! If he wanted the bald man to stop, he would just have to beat him up himself! He had his pride to defend, after all, and he didn’t need some passive cloud guardian to do it for him!

Roaring with anger while lighting his Vongola ring, Knuckle projected a solar sky uppercut into Calogero’s chin as he advanced on him, sending the other flying back again.

“Yes, get angry!” Calogero shouted with glee, picking himself up and charging again. “Let’s see that coldblooded killer that I’ve heard so much about!”

Knuckle froze. The moment cost him, and he coughed as the bald man kneed him in the gut. His brain seemed incapable to think as the force of the kick sent him flying back onto the ground. How could Calogero know about that?! He’d never told anyone!

“Wondering how I know?” Calogero hummed, picking up Knuckle by his collar and sending a punch into his chin. Knuckle winced, spitting blood out of the side of his mouth. “What if I told you _God_ told me?”

Despite his distrust of the bald man, the sun guardian believed it. Maybe this was his punishment: God had punished his time with Alaude by revealing to his enemy the one secret he’d never brought himself to tell anyone.

After his foster father had been shot and killed, and Knuckle had been thrown back out onto the streets, the boxer had lost himself. He blamed himself for what had happened, while simultaneously blaming everyone else. He had been extremely angry, and violent. Once, the police had approached him. Young, betrayed, and scared, Knuckle had wanted nothing to do with them; he’d thought they would try to lock him up somewhere or force him into a foster home. He would never go back there again; he had refused to.

Rage completely took him over, and when the red washed away from his gaze he saw the dead policeman on the ground, beaten completely to a pulp.

Horrified, Knuckle had run away. He didn’t know how to address what he’d done, or the rage that had consumed him so easily. When he finally collapsed from exhaustion, the young boxer had found himself in a church, the only light shining down from the stained glass windows onto a shrine at the back of the room. Scared and tired, Knuckle had curled up under the table where the light was and dreamt of warm, heavenly hands reaching out to him.

He took the hands and devoted himself to the church. He spent every moment praying and studying Christianity, and, with God’s help, he was able to eventually overcome the horror of his murder. Since then he had done his best to forget about it, until now.

“What’s the matter, Knuckle?!” Calogero shouted as he slammed his fist into him again. “God got your tongue?! Pah, some clergyman you are; God doesn’t smile on people like us, you know, people who kill!”

Knuckle couldn’t move; he felt frozen with shock. Images he’d tried so hard to suppress filled his mind, images of the cop’s body, of the blood that had pooled around him, of the sticky liquid that dripped from his own hands. Shuddering, the Vongola sun guardian wondered if he had been disillusioned this whole time. Maybe Calogero was right: maybe God had never lent a helping hand. Maybe being with Alaude in the first place had always been his punishment, God leading him more astray with no pity or forgiveness.

Tears ran down the sun guardian’s face. Could he truly never escape the past? Was he really just a cold-blooded killer?

He screamed as Calogero lit his sun ring and sent a punch hot with fire into the boxer’s gut. Falling limp, Knuckle waited to address his fate. Calogero had every right to kill him; the life he’d been living had all been a lie, anyway.

From the beginning, he’d only ever been walking to the guillotine.

 

\--

 

Alaude could hear the sounds of battle before he even reached the graveyard. His pulse quickened as he picked up the pace, practically running for the graveyard.

Despite himself, he was excited. It had been way too long since he’d been able to go all out in a battle, and something in his bones told him this would be a fight to the death. He couldn’t wait to smash some skulls. Underneath he was worried about Knuckle, but the bloodlust he hadn’t felt in years overtook every other emotion. Eagerly he fingered his handcuffs as a small smirk twisted its way onto his face.

When he made it to the graveyard, Alaude first saw the destruction that had separated the Vongola. Walls of fire surrounded the grounds, and through all the smoke that coated the air the cloud guardian could see struggling figures. The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke.

Alaude walked along, trying to find Knuckle. He would help him with his battle, if he needed it, and then he would leave. He didn’t care about the rest of it.

“It’s about time you showed up,” a voice said, coming out of nowhere.

Halting, Alaude glanced around for the location of the speaker. He couldn’t see anyone, but he sensed a powerful aura that made his skin tingle with anticipation. He tightened the grip on his handcuffs as he turned in the direction that the voice had come from.

Suddenly a man was walking out of the smoke. At first Alaude couldn’t identify him; then he saw the short, messy red hair and the piercing gold eyes. As he realized that he knew this man, everything began to make sense. It explained how Ricardo had known about the inner flames and all of the other things that he shouldn’t have known. Alaude felt anger rise in his gut, but he kept his gaze cool and collected. He hated when he was betrayed, but he hated showing emotion more.

“Gregario,” Alaude stated calmly. He watched as the man continued to advance before stopping a few feet away. “So you’re the rat.”

“I thought you knew, boss,” the CEDEF agent grinned, pulling out a nunchaku and swinging it in the air.

Alaude remained still. “I assume you know the punishment for relaying information to an outside source.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Good. That will make this much easier.” Alaude suddenly lunged forward, his handcuffs twirling around his finger.

Gregario mirrored him, swinging his nunchaku faster around as the two cloud guardians clashed. The Morte guardian’s nunchaku swung wildly, aiming for Alaude’s head, but he ducked easily and threw one end of his handcuff to tighten around the other weapon. With a sharp tug, Alaude disarmed his opponent, who grunted in surprise. Before Alaude could get his handcuff around Gregario’s neck, however, the other cloud guardian had lunged for his weapon and wasted no time coming at Alaude again.

Alaude tsked. He should’ve known someone he’d personally employed wouldn’t have been so easy to kill. Still, it was annoying.

Standing still as Gregario charged at him, Alaude activated his Vongola ring and multiplied the handcuffs until he had two in his hands. Then, meeting Gregario’s charge, Alaude used one cloud handcuff to disarm the other again before throwing the other handcuff around the Morte guardian’s neck.

Screeching in surprise, as he hadn’t seen Alaude multiply the handcuffs, Gregario struggled to get the handcuff from around his neck. As he tried, and failed, Alaude lifted him up by his handcuff and began smacking the other in the face with vicious blows. While suffocating him was an easy, quick option, the Vongola cloud guardian had so much pent up anger and bloodlust that he couldn’t help but go for a slow and painful death.

Though he didn’t like to associate himself with Daemon, he did have a similar glee in beating his enemies to a pulp.

He beat Gregario wherever he could, with every limb he could. He enjoyed himself as the man struggled for breath and freedom, and enjoyed seeing the bruises and cuts that marked his skin as he suffered. This would show him to betray Alaude.

“D-dammit!” Gregario managed to spit before Alaude smacked his cheek again. “I-I’m not done yet…!”

“Really?” Alaude hummed sarcastically as he kneed the other in the gut.

Something made a whirring sound, and the Vongola guardian barely dodged as a small, pointed object came flying at him from behind. Turning around, causing Gregario to choke as he violently turned the handcuff, Alaude tried to spot where the firing had come from. However, nothing moved through the smoke, and the CEDEF founder’s eyes couldn’t pick up an attacker.

Another one whizzed by, from the same direction. Alaude dodged it easily before running over to where the trajectory had come from. In the location, all he found was Gregario’s abandoned nunchaku.

It was then that Alaude noticed a small hole in the side of the wood where, sure enough, a dark, pointy spike flew at the cloud guardian. The cloud guardian glared at the other cloud guardian that he held in his handcuff.

“What an amusing toy.” Alaude smacked Gregario in the side of the head. “Turn it off.”

“M-make me,” Gregario grunted, closing his eyes as the attacks commenced. He was bleeding everywhere it seemed, and Alaude could tell that his handcuff was seriously damaging the other’s neck. It brought a sick satisfaction to his stomach.

Alaude made him. Swinging his handcuff above him like a lasso, spinning the other like dead weight, he listened in amusement to the other’s screams. However, little spikes kept flying at him, and Alaude knew he’d have to immobilize the other before he would stop the petty attacks.

With a flick of his wrist and a quick releasing of the handcuffs, Alaude threw Gregario to the other side of the clearing. He landed with the glorious sound of cracking bones.

He was nearly dead. As Alaude walked calmly over to where the man lay, immobilized by his injuries, he nodded in approval as he noticed that the small assault of projectiles had stopped. Gregario glared up at him, panting, and the Vongola cloud guardian could only snort; he hadn’t been as much of a match for him as he’d hoped. Alaude activated his Vongola ring for the finishing blow, which he would’ve landed if he hadn’t heard Knuckle scream. Freezing, Alaude’s head snapped in the direction of the noise.

_Knuckle!_ Looking back down at his prey, and seeing that the Morte cloud guardian wouldn’t be going anywhere, Alaude abandoned him and ran off towards Knuckle’s voice. He hated leaving business unfinished, but what if Knuckle was killed before he had finished off Gregario? Alaude’s hand tightened around his handcuffs.

He wouldn’t let anyone take Knuckle away from him.

Knuckle was visible in the distance. He was being held by the collar by some bald guy, who Alaude recognized to be the Morte sun guardian, Calogero, and was receiving punch after punch to his face. Wondering why the priest would just sit there and take it, Alaude noted that the sun guardian’s eyes were blank. His form was limp, and he appeared to no longer have the will to live. The cloud guardian narrowed his eyes.

He only knew of one thing that could reduce Knuckle to that state.

A wall of fire blocked Alaude’s way, and he growled. Mother Nature seemed to block him from Knuckle at every turn. Scanning the area around him, the cloud guardian noticed a little gargoyle statue on the side of one of the condos. Though he wasn’t sure why it would be there (the condos weren’t at all Gothic style), he couldn’t care less at the moment.

Swinging his handcuff while simultaneously pumping cloud flames into the chain to get it to lengthen, Alaude threw one end towards the gargoyle statue. It latched on, and Alaude pulled on his end to make sure it was tight. When the weapon didn’t budge, the cloud guardian began running towards the building. Using the chain like a vine, Alaude ran up the wall before jumping off of it, pushing himself up and over the flames as he swung in an arc.

Calogero and Knuckle were right in front of him. Lighting his Vongola ring, Alaude made the chain long enough so that he could swing right into the Morte sun guardian. His foot held out in front of him, the cloud guardian kicked the bald bastard in the head and dropped to the ground as the handcuff lost its grip on the gargoyle.

As he put the shortened handcuffs back in his pocket, he watched as Calogero dropped Knuckle and flew to the other end of the clearing from the force of the cloud guardian’s kick. As the bald man lay dazed, unaware of what had hit him, Alaude approached where Knuckle lay on his hands and knees. He was panting, and didn’t seem to have noticed Alaude yet.

“Pick yourself up, Knuckle,” Alaude commented calmly as he stood in front of Knuckle, facing Calogero. “You know you’re not a killer.”

“What are you doing here?!” Knuckle basically growled when he’d found his voice. Alaude felt a flash of impatience; he knew he was an asshole, but the sun guardian could at least appreciate help when it was given to him.

“Helping you, of course!” Alaude snapped back. “Which, might I add, is pretty rare, so be grateful!”

Calogero sprang up from where he landed, no longer dazed. Fury burned in his eyes as he ran at Alaude. “Hah?! How dare you interrupt my alone time with my man?!”

_His_ man? Alaude glanced at Knuckle briefly, wondering what the hell had happened since he’d been gone. He immediately noticed, however, by the priest’s tense form that he was also annoyed by the term and that he hadn’t done anything to bring it on.

Alaude was annoyed to find he was relieved. Bah, why did he care?! Calogero was just a delusional old man; getting all defensive about everything was against the point. All that mattered was defeating him.

“Tell me how you know about me!” Knuckle yelled. Alaude glanced behind him, seeing that the priest was finding the strength to stand on his own. His defeated look was slowly being washed away to be replaced with an intense anger.

Calogero danced in glee as he giggled. That such a noise came out of an elderly, bald man disturbed Alaude. Annoyed, he threw one of his handcuffs so that the cuff fell around the sun guardian’s head. He choked in surprise as it tightened around his neck, but then grinned sadistically when he realized it wasn’t meant to kill, just to hold him in place.

“Why don’t you ask your cloud guardian over there?” Calogero cooed. “He’s the one who has the file on you!”

“Alaude!” Knuckle turned towards him, his voice angry. “Is it true?!”

Alaude hesitated. He didn’t like the way the priest was looking at him. “… We have files on everyone.”

“So everyone knows about it!” Knuckle screeched. He looked like he was going into a rampage and Alaude barely blocked him as the sun guardian flew at him. “You told everyone!”

“I did not!” Alaude shouted back, holding Knuckle back by sheer strength alone. His handcuffs were still around Calogero’s neck.

The boxer’s eyes burned with fury. “Then how does he know?!”

“Gregario, their cloud guardian, worked for me. He apparently released any information to them that he found useful.” Alaude burned holes into Calogero’s stupid face, before turning back to Knuckle and softening his voice, “I would never do anything to hurt you. I created that agency to protect you.”

The sun guardian paused. Alaude could see the shock written all over his face. “W-what?!”

The cloud guardian had planned on taking this bit of information to the grave; he’d never wanted Knuckle to know. But now he knew he had to tell him, or they would truly lose everything. He would hate to see the satisfied look on Calogero’s face as they tore each other to pieces. Alaude grabbed Knuckle’s bandaged arms, holding them tightly as he stared into the priest’s face. Calogero coughed as he tried to say something, the handcuff around his neck tightening as Alaude pulled on it to shut him up.

“The man you killed worked for my father. As my coming of age assessment, I was supposed to get to the bottom of his murder. It took some time, but I did. I found you. But, by then, you had already broken down the walls that I had put around myself; you were already the only person to do so.

“I knew I had to protect you from my father, so I created the CEDEF to keep your secret. It grew much larger than I had anticipated, but that was beneficial, as it just buried your secret even further.” Alaude glared over at Calogero again. “It would’ve been kept forever if that bastard Morte guardian hadn’t spilled the beans.”

“Alaude…” The cloud guardian glanced at Knuckle again, but had to look away from the raw emotion on his face. He was just as bad at dealing with other people’s emotions as he was with his own. “You defied your father… just to help me?”

“My father and I never got along,” Alaude scoffed. “I was looking for a way to escape from him anyway.”

“I… I’m so relieved!” Knuckle laughed, surprising Alaude. “I almost extremely believed Calogero, too! I thought God had abandoned me, but it was just you! Haha!”

The cloud guardian wasn’t sure how to respond as Knuckle seemed to break down into hysterics. He started by letting go of his arms and taking a wary step back. He then noticed that Calogero had removed himself from the handcuff, as it had loosened while the cloud guardian had been distracted.

Automatically, Alaude stepped in front of Knuckle protectively. He didn’t want him to be attacked in his current mental state.

Calogero growled at the cloud guardian, a deep frown on his face. “You devil! You’ve ruined everything!”

Alaude just stared at him calmly, his handcuffs around his finger. He would kill him, then make sure Knuckle was alright.

“Alaude,” Knuckle was suddenly beside him, his bandaged fists up in an offensive stance. He seemed to be back to normal, the hysterics completely dispersed. “See how he favors his left side? He has a prosthetic leg.”

The cloud guardian had noticed that Calogero had been running off-kilter, and he nodded at Knuckle to show he’d heard. Without saying a word, the two Vongola guardians sprang forward, Knuckle taking one side and Alaude taking the other. As they ambushed the bald sun guardian, the cloud guardian felt a small tinge of satisfaction in his gut. Usually he hated working with anyone, and preferred to do everything alone, but he had always enjoyed tag-teaming with Knuckle. They had always made a game out of it: they would try to outdo one another, even though they were fighting the same enemy, and, more often than not, the enemy would become a toy between the two of them. It hadn’t happened in a long time, since Knuckle had long ago submitted to his religion, and Alaude had to admit that he’d missed it; he missed the excitement that always boiled in him from the game. Every other battle style, especially against weak opponents, was a bore. Now, however, the cloud guardian felt a strange warmness in his chest as he noticed that neither one of them had forgotten their competition. Catching Knuckle’s eye, he smirked at the priest.

Knuckle grinned back, and Alaude promised himself that after the battle he would make it up to him; he would pay him back ten-fold for every idiotic and stubborn thing he’d ever said or done. Nothing had ever made him realize more that he loved Knuckle, and would never find anyone else who could make him happy. It was weird for the cloud guardian to admit that, though he now knew it to be true: nothing had ever made him truly happy before.

A real smile almost snuck onto Alaude’s face. However, he wiped it off as soon as he met Calogero’s gaze; he didn’t want the ugly bastard to see something that was so personal.

Calogero was tiring fast. With the combined throttle from Alaude and Knuckle, he had hardly been able to attack or defend and spent most of his time pumping sun flames into his tired body. However, even that wasn’t helping him much now, and both the Vongola guardians could see he was almost done. As Knuckle stepped back to let Alaude handle it, the cloud guardian grabbed the bald sun guardian roughly by the collar.

“You’re dead,” Alaude growled at the Secondo sun guardian, his handcuff tightening slightly around the man’s throat. “And, for the record, he’s _my_ man.”

For a moment, Calogero seemed to admit defeat. Suddenly, however, he was grinning, and he had something in his hand. “That’s what you think!”

_… No!_ In a moment Alaude knew what Calogero planned to do, but he was powerless to act as the grinning bastard threw the grenade. Why did the sun guardian even have a grenade?! Wasn’t he a close-combat specialist?!

The proud cloud guardian felt something snap as he watched the explosion overtake Knuckle. For a moment, time seemed to stop. All Alaude could see was the priest’s shocked expression and the hole the bomb ripped in his abdomen. He felt Calogero slip out of his grasp, coughing, but he was too stunned to react.

Time started again.

“Knuckle!” Alaude ran to the sun guardian’s side. The boxer was flat on his back on the ground, blood seeping out of his wound at an alarming rate. Without a second thought, the cloud guardian threw off his jacket and pressed it firmly against the wound. As Knuckle sent him a grimace of pain, Alaude had a strange out of body feeling. This couldn’t be happening.

The blood kept flowing. Alaude’s hands were already soaked through his jacket. He lifted it off of Knuckle, with the intention of folding it over and pressing it back onto the wound. However, the cloud guardian had misjudged the extent of the injury. As soon as the jacket was removed, Knuckle’s innards spilled out onto the ground. Alaude stared at them in dumb shock before he had to look away, his stomach churning.

This couldn’t be happening.

Knuckle’s hand grasped weakly at Alaude’s arm, and the cloud guardian forced himself to forget about the guts and focus his attention on the sun guardian.

“Alaude, please… I d-don’t have much time…”

“Stop.” Alaude’s voice shook. “You’ll be okay.”

Knuckle shook his head and took a shuddering breath. “D-don’t lie to me, Alaude… I k-know I’m… not going to make it…. L-let me tell you… something.”

The cloud guardian could barely nod. He had seen plenty of gruesome injuries and deaths, but for some reason this one was making it impossible for him to think clearly. Nothing seemed real. All he knew was that he regretted all the times he’d ever snapped at Knuckle and that he didn’t want to lose him. Anything was better than that. Knuckle had been the only one who had ever made an effort to befriend him, and was the only person that Alaude had opened his heart to. He couldn’t lose the only person who had ever meant something to him.

“I-I’m sorry for… all the t-times I hurt you. I love you so much… and I w-wish I could’ve gotten past my p-pride and stubbornness… so that I could’ve showed you that b-better.”

“No, I was a bastard – I wish we’d never had that stupid argument!” Alaude felt an unbearable pain in his chest as he leaned forward to kiss Knuckle. He could feel Knuckle’s hands weakly clutching his hair and, for just a moment, it seemed like everything would be okay. If only Knuckle’s lips weren’t slowly getting colder. Alaude pulled back slightly to look at him, but found he couldn’t see clearly. He stroked Knuckle’s cheek, voice cracking as he spoke. “I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

Despite the situation, Knuckle actually smiled. “I thought I’d never extremely… hear you say that again. B-but you’ll be okay, Alaude. You’re strong. Y-you have to be happy… for my sake.”

“How can I be without you?” The cloud guardian held Knuckle tightly. He didn’t think he’d ever exposed his emotions as much as he was now, but he found he didn’t care. The sun guardian tried to hug him back, but he didn’t have the energy to raise his arms. Alarm rose in Alaude as Knuckle’s arms slacked.

_No…_

“I want you to…” A shuddering gasp left Knuckle as he sagged backwards and his eyes glazed over. Alaude trembled in disbelief as he looked at the now dead body of his lover, before he started shaking him violently.

“You want me to what?! Tell me, Knuckle!!” The cloud guardian barely felt the tears flowing down his cheeks as his shaking slowly came to a stop. “… Tell me…”

Alaude released Knuckle’s body as he sat back on his knees in stupefied shock. All he could do was stare down at the dead form of the only man he had ever loved. How could he have allowed this to happen? He had come to this battle to protect Knuckle!

And he had failed.

Shaking badly, Alaude reached for Knuckle’s still-warm hand and held it tightly. He had let Knuckle go once before, making the worst mistake in his life. He wouldn’t let go now.

He didn’t even have time to react as the bullet shot cleanly through his heart and he collapsed, dead, on top of Knuckle’s corpse.

 

\--

 

“Lampo!” Ugetsu heard G scream, before his lover was looking at him with a wild look in his eyes. “Ugetsu, we have to get to Lampo! He can’t handle this alone!”

Ugetsu nodded in understanding, withdrawing his swords from his cloak. “Do not worry, G, we will get to him.”

“You aren’t going anywhere!” A voice smirked from above, causing both G and Ugetsu to turn up towards the speaker.

A shower of forks rained down on them, surprising Ugetsu. He barely dodged them; when he had safely avoided them, he looked over to make sure G had dodged as well. He had, and was now staring angrily up at the condo rooftop in front of them. The rain guardian followed his gaze.

Standing there with a smug grin on his face was Berengar, Ricardo’s storm guardian. His brown bull cut covered his eyes, giving him a creepy aura, and he held a fork between each of his fingers on both hands. Ugetsu shuddered, feeling a chill creep up his spine.

Ugetsu heard his lover tsk in annoyance. “Get out of the way, asshole!”

G pulled his bow out from the case strapped on his back and pointed it at the other storm guardian threateningly. However, Berengar just let out a creepy laugh and stabbed his fork in the general direction of the Vongola guardians.

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to make us!”

“Us?” Ugetsu inquired, as there was no other person standing on the roof. Berengar just laughed, but as the three of them stood there, with nothing happening, the Morte storm guardian began to look more and more embarrassed.

Pretty soon his anger seemed to take control of him and he turned his back on them to shout off into the distance, “Hey, Aldo! Where the hell did you go?! You’re supposed to take care of the rain guardian, remember?!”

There was no reply, and G had taken this time to light his Vongola ring and shoot a powerful storm flame straight at Berengar’s back. It hit him square between the shoulders, causing him to squeal and turn around angrily. His creepy grin was gone, replaced with a pissed off sneer. “Hey! That was foul play!”

“Anything’s fair game in this kind of battle, squirt!” G shouted back, his anger level starting to rise as well. Ugetsu could tell that his lover was getting annoyed with the other storm guardian.

He sighed. He knew it wouldn’t end well if G blew his top at this guy; he was extremely reckless when he was angry, and, as Ugetsu looked around at the flames surrounding the area, he knew this was one battle where they couldn’t afford to be reckless. Gripping his swords tightly in his hands, Ugetsu looked up at Berengar determinedly. He would just have to make sure that they defeated the enemy before G could get angry.

Glancing at G, they looked at each other for a moment before G nodded. Ugetsu nodded back, smiling a little. It always made him so happy that he and G didn’t even need to talk to be in perfect sync.

Blasting rain flames into his three short swords, knowing that G would cover him, Ugetsu used the energy to fly himself up to the rooftop. At the same time, G shot a few more storm flame arrows at Berengar, to keep him distracted. While he was busy trying to dodge those (“trying” was a good word because G had amazing accuracy (he had improved a lot since his battle with Alaude), and Ugetsu burst with pride when he saw that most of the attacks were hitting their mark), Ugetsu flew at him with his sword dripping with rain flames.

“Hey, I’m not your opponent!” Berengar screeched as he barely blocked Ugetsu’s sword with several of his forks.

“Seeing as you are the only person in the area, I would say that you are,” Ugetsu responded calmly as he drew back. He ignited his Vongola ring and sent rain flames into his long sword. He then sliced his sword down as he froze the rain flames, sending sharp icicles flying down at Berengar. “And if you think I am going to stand back and watch you hurt G, then you are greatly mistaken.”

Berengar scowled as he was hit with the icicles, and began looking around as if he was hoping his mystery person would finally show himself. Because of that, he missed what G was doing and screamed in pain as he was hit by another storm flame. At this point his back was getting pretty beat up, and he could do nothing to defend himself since Ugetsu was keeping him occupied at the front.

Ugetsu smiled down at G. They had always been a perfect tag-team, with close-range and long-range attacks at their fingertips, and today was no exception. It was almost impossible to beat in battle, and also gave the rain guardian an excuse to hover around and make sure G didn’t get hurt.

After all, his lover was always his first priority.

This went on for a few minutes, with Berengar struggling to defend himself from both the rain and storm guardians. Once, Ugetsu came close to knocking him out, but the Morte storm guardian had ducked back in time and the only thing that the rain guardian’s sword sliced through was Berengar’s bangs. He could now see his eyes, and they were angry black slits that didn’t seem to have pupils. Ugetsu honestly thought it was a little creepy and briefly wished that he hadn’t cut his bangs off.

“Gah, enough of this!” Berengar finally shouted as he took a step back from Ugetsu, who was in mid-slice.

Caught off guard, the rain guardian’s sword cut air and he could see the look of triumph in Berengar’s eyes at his momentary freedom. Before Ugetsu could recover himself, the storm guardian turned and shot some deadly forks down at G.

Ugetsu’s mind momentarily shut down. What if G had assumed that the rain guardian was taking care of Berengar, and so wouldn’t be keeping an eye out for the falling forks? Gut churning in worry, Ugetsu thought he might throw up as he heard an explosion from below. No, G couldn’t be…

Ignoring Berengar, Ugetsu felt energy flow through his hands as he used his three short swords to fly back down to the ground where G was. When he got down there, he was relieved to find his lover intact (if not slightly burned and dirty from the explosion). Ugetsu landed near him happily, letting out a huge breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “G, you are not injured!”

However, G just looked surprised. “Ugetsu, what are you doing down here?! If you’re here, then that bastard is—!”

“—here!” Berengar shouted from above, and the Vongola guardians looked up sharply to see fire red forks flying down at them. However, they had obviously been thrown before the Morte storm guardian had spoken, considering that they were much closer than they should’ve been. It was almost impossible to dodge them, and they were heading straight for G.

Ugetsu didn’t even think. One minute he was frozen, the next he was standing in front of his lover, with his back to the oncoming attack. All he was conscious of was G’s widening eyes as he realized what the rain guardian had done and that the rain guardian was sending a tired smile towards him.

Even as the forks hit him straight on, and the pain erupted through his body, Ugetsu kept smiling. Everything would be okay as long as G was okay.

 

\--

 

G refused to believe what he saw. Even as Ugetsu stood in front of him, with that stupid smile on his face and the forks sticking out of his back, the storm guardian refused to believe what was happening.

Ugetsu couldn’t die because he’d protected him. That wasn’t allowed to happen; G was supposed to be strong enough to ensure that it never happened!

The rain guardian crumpled to his knees, and G followed him down. Putting his arm around the other’s shoulders, G stared into Ugetsu’s face, stroked his cheek, pushed a piece of sweaty hair from his face. His fingers were trembling. “… Ugestu?”

“G… I am happy that you are safe,” Ugetsu barely had the energy to lift his head and smile at G. The storm guardian felt something starting to break inside him. “I… love—”

Before Ugetsu could finish, a huge explosion erupted between them; the force of it sent both Vongola guardians flying back away from each other. G landed hard on his back, tasting blood in his mouth as he bit his tongue. The cheek with his scar burned with a ferocity that he hadn’t felt in years and he bit back a yowl of pain. He was more afraid of the fact that he couldn’t see Ugetsu anymore.

Struggling to stand, G glared up in the general direction of Berengar. “Damn you, you bastard!”

All he heard was a creepy laugh in response. As G looked around him, he could see that the explosion had been caused by a bunch of forks that were sticking in the ground surrounding where G and Ugetsu had been standing. Each fork had a shiny, almost invisible wire sticking up from the handle. G deduced that Berengar must’ve shot storm flames down each string and the destructive force of the flames when they’d come into great concentration had caused an explosion.

G growled as he hitched his bow. Well. Two could play at that game! His anger and grief fueling him on, G ignited his Vongola ring as forcefully as he could and pulsed the energy into his arrows. He shot them up in the direction Berengar’s laughter had come from and smirked in satisfaction as he heard screeches of pain. However, it didn’t last for long.

More stormy forks shot down at G, who barely scrambled out of the way. He squinted up at the condo, trying to see through all the smoke that clouded the air from the recent explosion, and thought he saw a figure. However, when he aimed for it, another explosion erupted underneath his feet and he cursed as he realized the forks had missed on purpose; he’d been so busy shooting in the dark and trying to locate his opponent that he hadn’t noticed. The explosion itself hadn’t been much, but it was enough to knock him off his feet and, when he fell a few yards away, he screamed in pain as he landed on an upright fork.

The shock of the fork in his spine caused him to black out for a moment, and when he came to again he found that he was unable to feel his legs. He growled as he realized that he must be the most unlucky man in the world: of all the places the fork had to stab, it had to stab deep into the area of his spinal cord that controlled mobility.

As he lay there, unable to feel anything but pain, G could see Giotto fighting off in the distance. His childhood friend was fighting determinedly, the flame on his forehead burning bright and strong. The storm guardian felt pain and pride in his chest as he watched him fight for a few moments. He was so proud of who Giotto had become, of how much he had grown from the puny kid who’d had to kill to survive. He would never regret following him, even after what had all happened at this battle, and would do it again in a heartbeat. He would always support him.

The pain in his chest was from the fact that he was leaving Giotto alone, something he promised he would never do again.

That fact brought another kick of life back into G’s body. He lifted his upper half, leaning back on his elbows, trying to see around. If he could find his bow, he could still fight…

However, as he scanned the area, G found something that immediately took the life out of him again: Ugetsu. He hadn’t been able to see him when he was fighting earlier, but now he could see the still form of his beloved as he laid face-down in the dirt a few feet away from him. With pain and effort, the storm guardian flipped himself onto his stomach to get a better view of him, and couldn’t stop the fear that gagged him as he saw all the blood.

“Ugetsu!” G screamed in desperation at the motionless form of his lover. A dark, bloody wound on his back stained his white robes a horrible color and G was suddenly plagued with memories of the nightmare he’d had so long ago. So much red… “Ugetsu, look at me! Please!”

When the rain guardian didn’t move, G began sobbing. “Please…”

Though he couldn’t feel his legs, G pulled himself with his elbows over to where Ugetsu lay. He grunted in pain and effort, and he panted as he looked back to see a bloody trail. He would never walk again. But, at the moment, G didn’t care about any of that. He knew he could get through any injury, but only if Ugetsu, his Ugetsu, was there by his side. Nothing else mattered.

“Ugetsu? Ugetsu, I’m here. It’s G! Twitch something, anything, to show me you hear me,” G babbled. He couldn’t help but deny what he knew to be the truth.

With effort, G managed to flip over the body of his lover. His breath stopped as he saw the glazed, brown eyes that he had come to love so much. “Gods, no… Ugetsu…”

As he lay there, stroking his dead lover’s cheek, G let tears fall freely from his face. He couldn’t believe it, he just couldn’t believe it! After everything they had gone through… Had it all been for nothing? Swallowing, G firmly pushed that thought out of his head. It hadn’t been nothing; he had and always would cherish the happy moments he’d spent with Ugetsu. Though they’d had their problems, there had been a time when G could say that he had been completely and utterly happy; he could even say that he had gotten used to living happily.

He couldn’t imagine doing that with Ugetsu dead. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he _was_ dead, even as he was staring the truth in the face. Ugetsu had lifted him out of a life of anger and pain and showed him that there was room for love in a heart G had always thought would be frozen. His warmth and contagious happiness had been a source of comfort and joy in G’s life.

What would he do without it?

With almost everyone dead around him, G didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what Alaude had been talking about so long ago: he was a weakling, and had no means of picking the family back up again. In fact, he’d done the exact opposite: he had failed everyone, especially Giotto and himself. And now his lover was dead, and with him the only happiness he would ever have in this world.

Wailing in deep agony, G lay completely still, huddled around Ugetsu’s form. He was thankful for the stormy fork that eventually stabbed through his back and ended his life, for he didn’t think he could stand living another second without his only love by his side.

 

\--

 

Lampo’s death hit Giotto hard. The others were like brothers to the Vongola boss, but Lampo had always been more of a son to him. He’d taken care of Lampo since the boy was five, so it wasn’t really that far off. He’d watched him grow up. He’d taught him how to write, how to read, and how to fight. He’d protected him from everything in his power and had always found time to play with him. He’d looked forward to watching him grow up and start a family of his own.

That he was dead was unbelievable. Impossible. And yet he’d watched him fall, just as his other guardians were falling around him.

In just a short amount of time, Giotto had become completely alone in the world again.

Shaking, the flames supporting him as he floated in the air flickering unsteadily, Giotto looked around at his friends. Lampo, Knuckle, Alaude, Ugetsu, G… All dead. He remembered when Lampo had wet the bed, barely seven, and had hid the sheets in the snack cupboard because he’d been too ashamed to tell Giotto (he’d found them by accident when he went to grab some chips and was instead assaulted by a pile of wet bedding). He remembered when Knuckle had taught him how boxing worked, and how they’d laughed together when Giotto, trying out a few punches, had bruised his fist. He remembered when he’d first beaten Alaude in a battle, thereby winning his respect and friendship, something Giotto would never take for granted. He remembered when he would occasionally take out a guitar and pick out some accompaniment to Ugetsu’s flute. He remembered when he and G had gone skiing but got caught in a snowstorm and had to hide out in a cave for a week before they could get out. During that time, they’d told jokes and Giotto had listened happily as G, the best storyteller he knew, would create some sci-fi adventure on the spot.

Now he would never have those experiences ever again.

Hot flame blasted Giotto in the chest, breaking him out of his grief and remembrance as he screamed in pain. He fell slightly before consciously activating his flames to sustain his height.

“What’s the matter, Giotto?” Ricardo reclined in a lawn chair on the roof of a condo, flames crackling between his hands. They had been fighting for some time now, dying will flame against dying will flame, with Ricardo on the roof and Giotto sustained in the air in front of the condo from the power of the flames in his hands. They were both injured, though Giotto could see that his grief-stricken distraction had cost him. As he focused in on Ricardo again, he noticed that the other wasn’t smiling, but had amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Shaken up by the death of your friends? How pathetic.”

Giotto boiled with anger as he grimaced at Ricardo, trying to ignore the pain and blood in his chest. This man, someone he had somehow once thought was worthy of the title of the Vongola Secondo, had killed everyone that Giotto cared about.

He would never forgive him.

“Ricardo!” Giotto roared in anger as he propelled himself towards the Morte boss, swinging his alit hand at Ricardo’s head.

“Now Giotto,” Ricardo said calmly, standing up and grabbing Giotto’s arm at an amazing speed. Giotto barely stopped his momentum by immediately aiming his flames the other way, trying to get some leverage to wrench his arm out of Ricardo’s grasp. “You don’t want to break your policy to never kill anyone, do you?”

Giotto panted in anger as he growled at Ricardo, “I don’t think my _friends_ would mind.”

“Woah, I’m so scared!” Ricardo laughed mockingly before he threw Giotto out into open air. Giotto caught himself and once again turned to face the boss from a distance. He was starting to feel light-headed from the blood loss from his chest. “Too bad none of them are alive to care anymore!”

Giotto let his rage grow. It was the only way he would be able to beat Ricardo in his current state, and give him the willingness to go all out. The Vongola boss hated using his full power because he was still not quite able to control it, and he didn’t want to do something that might harm someone else.

However, he knew he would not regret using it now.

Breathing deeply to help him concentrate, Giotto focused all of his energy to his core. As his power pooled together, and his pain and exhaustion flowed out of his body, he felt the flame on his forehead become more intense and concentrated and, as he looked down at his I Gloves, he could see his body begin to emit a faint glow. When he had fully activated his Hyper Dying Will Mode, he felt like each of his senses were at peak awareness and for a moment it disoriented him; he hadn’t activated it in a long time, and the extremity of it put stress on his senses.

However, he was soon used to it again, and he returned his more focused attention to Ricardo. He was sneering at him, though Giotto thought he picked up some excitement from him.

“Well, Giotto!” He shouted as he leaped out of his lawn chair. His expression was wild. “It’s about time you went all out!”

Giotto didn’t respond, and instead watched Ricardo’s movements intently. The moment he saw that the Morte boss was going to attack, he pointed one hand out behind him, the flames supporting him so he wouldn’t fly backwards, and pointed the other towards Ricardo. As the other shot out a strong flame from his hands, Giotto narrowed his focus and spread out his fingers.

“Zero Point Breakthrough,” he muttered as he caught the oncoming flame in his hand and froze it. As he poured his concentration into the attack, the ice crept down the flame until it touched Ricardo’s hand.

Jerking in surprise, Ricardo stared at the huge ice sculpture that was now stuck to his hand. When he raised his hand, the frozen flame rose with it and Giotto could see the strain on the other man’s hand as he held it. Even from his distance, he could hear Ricardo’s growl of anger.

Wasting no time, Giotto blasted himself towards Ricardo. Intensifying the flames around his I Gloves, the Vongola boss swung his fist at Ricardo’s face. The punch sent Ricardo flying backwards, and he spat as he rubbed his cheek. The glare he sent Giotto then could almost melt the ice still attached to his hand. Due to Giotto’s Hyper mode, he was able to ignore the little voice in his head that told him he should stop as he flew at Ricardo again.

The other man roared in anger and blasted his flames, finally melting the ice attacked to his hand. With the freedom, Ricardo lunged to meet Giotto. Their alit hands met each other, and both were growling in the other’s face as they pushed against each other with sheer strength alone.

Giotto winced. He could intensely feel the flames that licked at his cheeks, due to his heightened senses, and he knew he was tiring. When he looked at Ricardo, he could see that the other man was also feeling the heat but didn’t seem to be worn out. The Vongola boss swallowed; Ricardo was much more used to using his dying will flames than Giotto was. He could shoot blast after blast where Giotto was tired after just one Zero Point Breakthrough.

Without any warning at all, Giotto lost the will to fight. As he floated there, locked with the only man he had ever hated with such ferocity, he wondered if he really wanted to win this battle. What would be the point? There would be no one to welcome him home, no friends to rest and convalesce with. Everyone who he cared about, his entire _family_ had been murdered in this bloody and pointless battle; shouldn’t he too fall with them? He would rather do that than be alone again.

He had been alone for most of his childhood. Growing up in a poorly managed foster home where children fought and killed for their food was just the kind of scenario that Giotto had spent his whole life trying to escape from. He sighed heavily.

Maybe there was no escape.

“Alright, Ricardo.” Giotto was surprised to find his voice wasn’t shaking as he pushed back from Ricardo and retreated back out into open air. He felt his Hyper mode seep out of his body as his pain and heartache came back into focus. He now knew what he had to do, and was coolly determined to do what he felt was right. “You can kill me.”

Ricardo’s eyebrows rose in surprise before he grinned maliciously. “Ah, now you’re coming to your senses, Giotto! This will do you good – you’ll die a hero instead of a pig-headed fool.”

If the words were supposed to make Giotto feel better, they didn’t. He was no hero: when had he ever saved anyone from anything? He liked to think he’d saved some civilians, but at what cost? The death of his entire family? They were the ones he should’ve been saving and protecting the whole time, but he hadn’t. He might have been able to unite them in the end, but it didn’t matter if they were all dead. That was what Daemon had been trying to show him all along, that family was the most important thing in the world and required the utmost attention and protection. No wonder he’d been pushed to such extreme measures, since it had taken the entire family’s death for the Vongola boss to learn his lesson. Giotto took a shaky breath, feeling ashamed, and lowered his head as his tears fell down his face. While he felt like a failure of a boss, he still had the pride not to cry in front of Ricardo.

“Well, Giotto?” Ricardo’s tone was impatient, though he seemed unbelievably calm despite the situation. “Are you ready?”

Giotto wiped at his eyes, raised his head, and looked his grim reaper straight in the face. After all the death that he had caused, for it really had been all his fault, the Vongola Primo knew that he was ready. Though he felt his life had been meaningless, he finally understood that it had meant something to someone; and that was all that really mattered in the long run.

He had been loved by his family, and he was ready to return to their love.

So, squaring his shoulders, Giotto replied calmly, “Yes.”

He felt no regret as the flame ripped through his brain. Instead he felt a strange peace, as if all of his burdens had been removed. And they had, really. Never again would he have to make decisions that weighed his family against others; never again would he have to worry about his guardians as they struggled with their own problems; never again would he have to figure out how to solve his problems, because there were no more problems left to solve. Though he worried for future generations of the Vongola, with Ricardo in charge, relief washed through Giotto; after all, he wouldn’t have to deal with it. He would see his friends and spend time loving them, which was all he should’ve done in the first place. The unbearable pain in his chest that had been there since their deaths left his body; he would rejoin them soon.

Despite everything, a small smile appeared on Giotto’s face as his flames died and his body began to fall.

His heartbeat had already stopped before he hit the ground.

 

\--

 

Smoke wafted out of the gun as Daemon lowered his arm. He winced at the lingering pain from the recoil, but a grin spread across his face and he felt light-hearted and free.

He’d always wanted to kill Alaude. It had driven him mad how much the cloud guardian would silently boast about his power and strength, taunting Daemon with how little of a match he was for him.

Well. This would show him, wouldn’t it?

Movement out of the corner of his eye caused Daemon to whirl around, scanning for any Vongola member that could still be alive. However, he soon realized that it was just the Morte guardians, though he supposed they _were_ the Vongola guardians now, picking themselves out of the rubble and bloodshed. All of them were alive, though most of them suffered severe injuries. The Vongola had put up a fight. Daemon couldn’t tell if he was angry or proud of the fact.

“Hey Aldo, what’s the big idea?” Berengar stomped across the roof to where Daemon was standing, his mouth a hard line. The mist guardian noted with amusement that his bangs had been sliced off and he had several arrows sticking out of his body.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Daemon replied airily, almost surprising himself with the deepness of his voice.

“Yes you do, you bastard!” Berengar snapped. “What’s the big idea of standing around doing nothing while I had to deal with both the storm _and_ rain guardians?!”

“You didn’t seem to have any trouble,” Daemon replied, smiling inwardly at how mad his response made the storm guardian. “Besides, I killed the cloud guardian, probably the most dangerous one there, so you should thank me.”

“Sure, with a cowardly shot from a far distance.” Gregario’s voice came out of nowhere, and it took Daemon a while to realize that he had followed Berengar onto his condo roof. It looked like he was bleeding from everywhere on his body, not to mention that he had some obvious broken bones and a dark circle of a bruise scarred his entire neck. He was obviously upset that he hadn’t been the one to kill Alaude after he had suffered so many injuries to fight him. Daemon only snorted smugly.

It was then, however, that the illusionist noted that everyone, including Ricardo, had joined him on the one roof.

“I didn’t even know you were the kind of man who knows how to use a gun,” Calogero added.

Damiano snorted. “Not to mention that ya’ve always hated long-distance fighting.”

“Daemon.” Ricardo stepped forward, blood dripping down his face. His gaze was cold and calculating. “What have you done with Aldo?”

Daemon stared him down calmly. While he was surprised, and slightly impressed, that the entire Vongola Secondo had seen through his illusion, it didn’t bother him that much. It had served its purpose; he’d just needed to buy time to prepare. While he’d wished he’d been able to sneak up on Ricardo when he was least expecting it, this worked too.

“Hm.” Indigo mist enclosed Daemon and, when it dispersed, his illusion was gone and he held his scythe in his hand and his Devil’s Lens in his eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before Ricardo could make an angry retort, Daemon flew at him with his scythe sparkling deadly in the sunlight that had poked out of the gray cloud cover. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the other guardians tensing to help their boss. Grinning, Daemon multiplied himself until four identical Daemons flew off to block the Morte family. He laughed at their cries of anger and frustration and focused once more on his prey. Lifting his scythe, he prepared to make the killing slash on Ricardo.

Metal hit metal, and for a moment Daemon couldn’t figure out what was holding back his weapon. Ricardo only ever used his Flame of Wrath, so how could…?

It was then that Daemon registered the figure that stood in front of Ricardo, defending him. He had long dark blue hair, and his signature katana was parallel to his body as he blocked the mist guardian’s scythe. The illusionist gaped at the glaring face in front of him.

“A-Aldo?!” Daemon stammered, all five of his forms pausing in shock. “How are you still alive?!”

“You’re not the only one who plays with illusions, Spade,” Aldo growled as he turned and slashed at one of Daemon’s illusions. The attack was so powerful that the illusion was completely shattered and only four Daemons remained. “Don’t underestimate the Morte guardians!”

Daemon narrowed his eyes and stabbed his scythe in Aldo’s direction, but the deadly weapon went through air. Or, water. Where Aldo’s image still shimmered, a giant wave of water rose up from the condo rooftop. Aldo was now standing behind the mist guardian, and he growled as he made the connection. The water had reflected Aldo to make him appear to stand somewhere when he wasn’t actually there. Daemon soon deduced that he must have employed this same trick and when he’d thought he’d slashed through Aldo, he’d actually slashed through the illusion.

“But blood splattered on my cheeks! I dragged your dead body! It wasn’t just an illusion!” Daemon shouted as one by one his illusions were destroyed by the Morte while he was distracted until the real one stood alone.

“What? You mean this?” Aldo held up the body of a person who looked like him, but, on closer inspection, Daemon realized that it was just some random civilian who was dressed up to look like Aldo. He hadn’t noticed earlier because he’d never looked at the Morte rain guardian close enough to realize that the face was slightly different.

He had been tricked!

“I thought you would try to pull something, so I told them all to prepare for a surprise attack from you,” Ricardo spoke up, stepping towards Daemon with a malicious grin. His Flame of Wrath flickered in his hand. “Your petty illusions were quite easy to see through once we expected to see them.”

Daemon flapped his mouth uselessly, unable to comprehend what had just happened. How could he have been played for a fool like this? He was the master of illusions!

“Ricardo!” Daemon roared as he glared at him through his Devil’s Lens. He could see that Ricardo was going to fire and, once he did, he would jump to the side and stab his scythe into that cunning bastard….

The shot fired. Daemon leaped to the side, lunging forward at a breathtaking speed. As he neared Ricardo, he swung his scythe at the Morte boss and laughed manically as he could almost taste the satisfaction of killing him. Revenge tasted sweet.

However, he suddenly stopped moving. Looking down in astonishment, Daemon realized that Ricardo had ignited his other hand while he wasn’t paying attention and now had it pulsing against the mist guardian’s chest. He’d forgotten that Ricardo could ignite the Flame of Wrath in both hands. Almost immediately Daemon knew he would die. Ricardo wasn’t the kind of person who would let someone go free after they had betrayed him. He had been careless, and fooled, and now he would pay the price.

“You served your purpose well, Daemon. It’s a shame you were such a fool.” Ricardo violently opened his hand and shot a ball of inferno straight into Daemon’s chest. The force of the blow sent Daemon flying off the roof as his abdomen exploded.

He fell.

As Daemon landed hard on his back on the ground, he realized ironically that he was lying next to Giotto’s body. He looked over at the man that he had hated for so long and remembered, for the first time in ages, how he had once regarded this man as a brother. And yet Daemon had betrayed him, and in the process brought to power the person that he hated the most. He looked at Giotto’s blood and dirt encrusted face and his glazed eyes and suddenly wondered if this was really what he had wanted all these years, if it had been what Elena had wanted. She had loved Giotto like a brother, too.

Would she really have wanted him dead like this?

“Giotto….” Daemon shakily reached over and grasped his friend’s cold hand. He realized he was crying. “Look at us now, my friend…I’m so sorry… But I guess I’m getting what I deserve, huh?”

He knew that Giotto could no longer hear him or have the power to forgive him, but Daemon felt light-hearted for the first time in what seemed like eons. He had caused the death of his only family, but in the end, here he was dying right alongside them.

If that wasn’t the unity of fate, he didn’t know what was.

Daemon closed his eyes and thought he felt Elena’s fingers stroking through his hair as he bled to death, feeling peaceful for the first time since she’d died.

 

\--

 

Ricardo stepped through the debris at the end of the battle as he looked for Giotto’s body. He’d seen it easily from the rooftop, but down here everything looked different. His guardians were scanning other parts of the graveyard, also searching for the Primo bodies.

It was vital that they found the rings.

Exclaiming in satisfaction, the Vongola Secondo found Giotto’s body. Not caring if he stepped on the bodies themselves, Ricardo maneuvered himself so that he could easily access Primo’s right hand. He grabbed it and admired the Vongola ring. He had loved it when he’d seen Daemon wearing it, but the sky ring looked even better than the mist ring.

Humming, Ricardo snapped Giotto’s finger as he ripped the ring off. He slipped it onto his finger and ignited it. The flame of power that erupted from the ring brought tears to the Vongola boss’ eye.

However…

Something wasn’t right. The rings were supposed to be more powerful than this. After all, they were part of the Tri-ni-Set. So why were they barely stronger than the rings that Ricardo possessed already? They should have been worlds stronger!

Ricardo examined the ring closer. When he had gone over every single small detail that he could make out on the ring, dusting blood and dirt off of the surface, the Secondo was able to discover that someone had cut the ring in half.

Half of the ring was missing, and with it half of the ring’s power.

“No!” Ricardo roared, causing all of his guardians to jump and flock to him.

“What’s the matter, boss?” Aldo asked cautiously, startled as Ricardo snatched at his arm to inspect the ring he’d cultivated from Asari.

When the Morte boss had inspected everyone’s rings, including the one that was still stuck to Daemon’s finger, he made a horrible discovery: every single ring was cut in half.

“Who did this?!” He screamed into the air, his Flame of Wrath activating automatically.

Words could not explain the deep level of anger he felt. Someone had gotten the best of him, and he had no leads to who could possibly have the other half of the rings. All he knew was that Giotto was behind it, and that Daemon had failed to inform him about it. Had Daemon been on their side all along?! Ricardo stomped on both Daemon’s and Giotto’s faces with his boot, causing them to cave in, and vowed that he would find the rings at any cost.

Whoever had them would not escape his wrath.

 

\--

 

Cozart picked up the morning newspaper, flicking it open as he lounged back on the couch. He was in a good mood. His guardians were coming back, and he couldn’t wait to feel like part of a family again; his loneliness had been getting really bad. It had been kept at bay when Giotto and his family came to stay, but that had brought along its own complications and Cozart just wanted to return to the relaxed state of mind that his guardians brought back with them.

The only thing that threatened to spoil his good mood was his worry that Giotto hadn’t come back yet. He hadn’t said how long he would be away, but Cozart had assumed it wouldn’t take the whole day and night.

But he told himself not to worry too much. Giotto was capable, and so were his guardians. He would be fine. Cozart just had to wait.

Focusing on the newspaper, the Shimon boss felt his heart stop. On the front page, in big, bold letters read, “Vongola Secondo Takes Control.” No, it couldn’t be…

Cozart read the headline ten times, just to make sure. Once he’d processed the information, he scanned the article. It said that the Vongola had been found dead near a graveyard, all brutally murdered. The police were unable to find the culprits, as no one living was found at the site. There was also a recorded interview with the Vongola Secondo, some guy named Ricardo, who expressed his sincere regret that the Primo had died in such a way.

Simmering in anger, Cozart slammed the paper on the table, sending a cup of tea flying. That bastard had killed them! Going on and on about Primo this, Primo that…. Ricardo couldn’t care less that they were dead! He’d probably killed them for the power the title of Vongola Secondo would bring! Oh he would pay for this… No one like that deserved to get away scotch free!

Before long, however, Cozart found that his anger was replaced with a painful clenching in his heart. Sobbing, he collapsed to the floor. Clutching his sides, hiccups and moans escaping him, he forgot all about Ricardo as one thing, no, one person, filled his thoughts.

Giotto was dead. He would never see him again, talk with him again, hear his sweet laugh… The worst part was that they had parted awkwardly, not quite friends, and that was all because Cozart had been so untactful with his emotions; because he’d thrown them around without considering Giotto’s feelings, the Vongola Primo couldn’t be comfortable around him.

And now he was dead, and Cozart would never have a chance to mend things between them.

He cried. He cried for what he’d had and for what could’ve been in an alternate world. Time passed. How much, Cozart didn’t know. Slowly he fell sideways and he lay on the floor, staring blankly at the wall as his tears dried. He felt numb. Any happiness he’d had earlier was gone.

Despite being the love of his life, Giotto had been Cozart’s closest friend. He’d always been the one there ready to help Cozart, with whatever it was. He was always willing to listen to some lame story the orange-haired mafia don told about his life. He’d extended a kindness and friendship that no one ever had before. Cozart didn’t know what to do without him. No one, not even his own guardians, had meant more to him.

Giotto had left a hole in Cozart’s heart that would never be filled again.

Sitting up, Cozart reached up to the table and opened a drawer that was hidden on the table’s side. He pulled a gun out of the drawer.

He was positive that he was the only one alive who cared that knew what Ricardo had done. He couldn’t let that bastard go away free; he owed that much to Giotto. Pulling out a piece of paper and pen from the same table drawer, Cozart wrote, “KILL VONGOLA SECONDO.” He barely noticed that his hand was shaking.

He wanted to see Giotto again.

Once he had finished, leaving the paper sitting on the table, Cozart raised the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.


	16. Generations Apart

Giotto liked Tsuna. He had watched generations of Vongola bosses from within the Vongola ring, generations of bloodshed. He’d liked some bosses, disliked others, but Tsuna was by far his favorite.

He liked the passion Tsuna held for protecting his friends and family; he liked his sympathy and consciousness towards others. He liked that he could be cowardly sometimes, because it made it more obvious how dedicated he was to those he cared about. Tsuna reminded Giotto of himself when he was his age, furthered along by their uncanny similarity in appearance. It was almost creepy, actually.

But, more importantly, Tsuna represented the Vongola as Giotto had started it; the part that had been lost when Ricardo had taken over.

Giotto shuddered. He still remembered that bloody battle… It had haunted him for generations, cursed to be trapped alone in a ring and watch helplessly as the Vongola’s future unfolded. He had been ready to embrace the bliss of death, but this was just torture; especially since Giotto hadn’t seen any of his family since the day they had died. It killed him inside.

He also hadn’t seen Cozart. The man had disappeared. Ricardo had interacted many times with the Shimon family, but Cozart had never been with them. And, to make matters worse, Giotto had watched as the friendship between the two families dissolved into feud and bloodshed. The first generation Shimon had killed Ricardo for some unknown reason; Ricardo’s guardians had then killed them in revenge, and so on and so forth until no one alive remembered that the two families had ever been anything but enemies.

It broke Giotto’s heart. Especially now that he wished he’d returned Cozart’s feelings all those years ago.

Since he was doomed to eternal suffering inside the Vongola ring, Giotto had had a lot of time to reflect on his life and the events that had immediately preceded his death. He didn’t know when he’d fallen in love with Cozart, but he knew it now and longed to tell him that. He thought that he’d rejected Cozart so long ago because he was unable to handle love at that moment. Everything had been falling apart around him, and he was so distressed about everything and angry with himself that taking personal pleasure seemed out of the question and impossible. Now he regretted the way he’d hurt Cozart and wished that he could change what had happened. Not just that, but he wished he could change everything; none of his guardians had deserved to die the way they had, especially not when Giotto had been so foolish in choosing Ricardo as his heir.

But more than anything he just wanted to see everyone again.

Sighing, Giotto pulled his knees to his chin and watched out Tsuna’s eyes. He wasn’t sure how it worked, but being stuck in the Vongola ring entitled a black space that he now called home. The only thing that broke the darkness was a giant screen-like image of everything that Tsuna could see (or whatever boss was in current possession of the ring) and an audio that allowed him to hear Tsuna’s thoughts as well as the conversations that went on around him. The whole thing didn’t make much sense, but heck he didn’t know how his spirit had even been trapped in the ring in the first place. The only thing he knew was that it had to be Sepira’s doing.

Ignoring the tinge of sadness that touched him at the thought of his friend, Giotto focused on what Tsuna was doing and thinking. Currently, he was looking at each of his guardians in turn outside of a shrine (if the Vongola boss remembered correctly it was called Namimori Shrine). Giotto could feel determination shooting through Tsuna and he looked sadly at the others.

The Tenth’s guardians reminded him painfully of his own family. The similarities were, once again, uncanny. Gokudera reminded him so much of G that he had to laugh sometimes: they both had that snappish attitude with a soft side for those they cared about. Yamamoto had a cheeriness about him that Giotto had only ever seen in Ugetsu. Hibari was aloof and distant, just as Alaude had always liked to be. Ryohei and Knuckle were both extreme about the things they believed in. Lambo whined and cried but acted snotty whenever he could, just like Lampo had been as a child. Even Mukurou, who had turned against Tsuna in the beginning, was like Daemon in that regard (besides the fact that they were both crazy), though he was less sure about Chrome’s connection.

Giotto sighed as he thought about Daemon. He wondered how much he had lived after he had betrayed them. Though part of him felt like he _should_ be mad at the mist guardian, he found he couldn’t bring himself to feel that way. He just felt sad; he wished he could’ve held onto their friendship better.

Suddenly a voice reached into Giotto’s solitude, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Vongola Primo, can you hear me?”

“S-Sepira?!” Giotto called back, startled, as he recognized the voice. He hadn’t heard her voice in so long! Could it really be…?!

The voice laughed softly. “I am a relative of Sepira; my name is Yuni. I am sorry if that disappoints you.”

“N-no…” It did disappoint him, but Giotto wasn’t about to say so. He then remembered Yuni: Tsuna had taken her into his protection recently, and even when she had first appeared Giotto had been reminded of his old friend. It had made him unbearably happy that some descendant of Sepira had survived. “What can I help you with, Yuni?”

“I would like to request your assistance in training the Vongola Decimo. They are in a tough spot right now, as I am sure you know, but if they gain full inheritance I believe they can pull through.”

Giotto hesitated. “Is that even possible? I didn’t know I had the power to grant anyone inheritance anymore.”

“It is possible.” Giotto thought he heard a smile in the voice. “With my power combined with the six arcobaleno present it can be accomplished. You have more influence than you think, Giotto, if I may call you that.”

“Of course you may call me that. Sepira did.” Giotto stood. He didn’t know what an arcobaleno was exactly, except that Tsuna’s tutor, Reborn, was one, but he decided to ignore that. “So I am to test Decimo to see if he’s worthy of my inheritance?”

“You and your guardians will, yes.”

“You mean I’ll get to see them?!” Giotto’s heart clenched.

“Yes; in fact those were part of the terms I was going to present to you. You’ll get to see your friends again and you’ll be outside the rings for a bit. Not only that, but once you finish with your job, I will help you find Cozart Shimon.”

Giotto couldn’t believe the level of happiness that swelled in him. After so long, freedom was at his fingertips; but, more importantly, he would be able to see his family again. The horrible loneliness that had clutched him through his entire time in the ring would finally be healed. He could make amends, with Cozart as well, and the thought made him so happy that he almost cried. He laughed instead. “You drive a hard bargain. Very well, Yuni; I accept your terms. It’s a deal.”

“Perfect! Thank you so much, Giotto!” Yuni’s voice was light and full of hope, and Giotto suddenly developed a fondness for her: she was so much like Sepira.

“I just hope you will instruct me on how to get out of this ring,” Giotto said humbly. “I’m afraid I don’t quite get how these things work.”

Yuni laughed. “That is no problem at all! In a moment a bright light is going to shine behind you. Just walk towards it, and you will be outside the ring. You will figure it out from there.”

“Promise?” Giotto joked, a smile coming on to his face for the first time in nine generations.

“Promise,” Yuni giggled.

Yuni fell silent and, following her instructions, Giotto turned behind him. The anticipation and anxiety was building exponentially in his chest so that he felt he would explode; there were so many things that he had to fix, but seeing his family again was all that mattered at the moment.

Soon enough, a bright orange light shone in front of the Vongola boss and he took a deep breath before he stepped into it.

He had a strange feeling of being sucked through a tube as the world spun around him. Everything was happening so fast that he started to get a strong feeling of vertigo and he hoped his first reentering of the world wouldn’t be accompanied with barf. Everything around him also seemed to be _hot_ , like the feeling of when he burned flames through his I Gloves.

Before he could wonder about that, however, the world came into focus. And it wasn’t the same, bleak darkness he was so used to seeing; no, it was the _real world._ He could feel the cobblestones under his feet and he could smell freshly cut grass as a breeze crossed his cheeks. It had been so long since he’d experienced anything like it that for a moment he was silent.

However, a shout of surprise brought him back to the present and he looked directly in front of him to see Tsuna and the other guardians looking at him with shocked expressions. Giotto had to suppress a smile. So he really was outside the ring…

It was then he realized that he was striking a silly pose and lowered his hand awkwardly, embarrassed.

“Allow me to introduce the person before you,” a high-pitched, squeaky voice said suddenly. Giotto found the source of the voice on top of Tsuna’s head and recognized Reborn, the arcobaleno. He arched his eyebrow a little, wondering how he would introduce him. “Vongola Primo!”

… Dang, he’d have to get used to that. He’d never liked all of those formalities, so he’d always insisted everyone call him Giotto. However, when he opened his mouth to correct Reborn, he caught Yuni’s glance and saw her shaking her head at him. Dutifully, he shut his mouth but he was a bit sour about it. Why should he have to go by Primo? It was like he was dead! Well, he was, but still, he didn’t need to be reminded.

Realizing that everyone was staring at him, Giotto cleared his throat. “So we meet again, Vongola Decimo.” Ha. See how _he_ liked being called by his fancy title!

“H-he spoke!” Yamamoto gasped, shocked.

“Is he an extreme ghost?!” Ryohei then shouted, just as surprised.

“A supernatural phenomena!” Gokudera called out in turn. Giotto had to suppress a chuckle. Though he himself didn’t really know what he was, and was just as surprised that he could communicate outside of Tsuna’s mind, he still found the younger generation’s reactions funny.

“The six of us, plus Yuni,” Reborn began to explain, looking at each arcobaleno in turn, “were able to form a contract that allowed Primo to take on a physical form. Of course, it’s only while the contract stays in place.”

Giotto nodded. He still didn’t quite understand the science behind it, but whatever. He understood that he was only temporarily free.

“That’s the Vongola Primo? He’s much younger than I expected!” One of the arcobaleno with a motorcycle helmet on spoke up. Giotto tried not to flinch. He was all too aware of how young he was compared to many of the other Vongola bosses, how much of the life had been taken away from him and his family.

Catching Yuni’s eye, Giotto decided it was time to speak up. “It seems you’ve run into a wall, Tsuna… er, Decimo.”

“How do you know that?!” Tsuna squeaked. Giotto had to hide his smile. So the current Vongola boss really had been unaware of Giotto’s presence within his thoughts.

“He can sense danger to the Vongola,” Reborn spoke up again. Giotto wondered how he could possibly know all of this when he himself didn’t even know. “It was probably a response to your feelings.”

“My feelings…?” Tsuna questioned uncertainly. Giotto had to admit he sympathized: he would be weirded out too if he’d learned that someone was listening to all of his thoughts all of the time. In his defense, he had tried to tune out whenever Tsuna began thinking about entirely personal matters (such as the girl named Kyoko).

“You’re Decimo’s guardians?” Giotto interrupted, looking around at the small group in front of him. Though he already knew it to be true, he wanted to confirm it; he had to know that soon his friends would find themselves freed from the rings and they could be together again. However, he also felt he had a duty to explain the only thing he understood about the whole situation. “None of you have inherited the true power of the Vongola – just as no one before you ever has.”

To the Decimo’s shocked reactions, Reborn added on his own explanation, “If the Primo guardians accept you as the true Vongola guardians, you will receive the true Vongola power.”

“What do we have to do to receive the inheritance?!” Gokudera shouted, sounding angry even though there really wasn’t anything to be angry about. Giotto let a snort of amusement escape: another G-ism.

Giotto had thought long and hard while he’d been waiting for the light of freedom about what he was going to do to test the Decimo, and exactly what they were being tested for. After all, he had nine generations of criticism to go off of. He wanted Tsuna to learn from his mistakes and be a better boss than he ever had been. “Are you able to embody the duty of a guardian? Do you have the resolve? Everything rests on that.”

Before he could spoil it by saying anymore, Giotto willed his spirit away from where he was standing. The hotness engulfed him again and when he opened his eyes and the feeling of vertigo faded he found he was standing on the roof of the shrine. He watched the Decimo from above, careful not to reveal his presence. He didn’t want to lay out strict guidelines for Tsuna and his guardians because he wanted them to prove themselves; Giotto had seen a lot that he liked about Tsuna and his guardians, but there was still so much they had to learn, and it was important they learned it on their own through the tests Giotto and his family would lay out for them.

And besides. He wanted to see his own family more than he wanted to get to know the Decimo. He just had to wait until nightfall, when Yuni had told him his guardians would be released from the rings.

 

\--

 

G didn’t dare to believe that it was real until he felt pavement under his feet and saw the surprised expression of Gokudera in front of him. The cool night air touched his cheeks and he took a deep breath, appreciating the moment.

He’d been dead for so long he’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel.

He didn’t understand the details of how this moment had come to be; all he knew was the instructions he’d received from a girl named Yuni and that Giotto had gone full throttle on the plan. Which, of course, he would; he always liked getting into little schemes like this. G scoffed, a smile coming onto his face. How he’d missed Giotto; it would be great to see him again. But not only that, he’d be able to see Ugetsu.

He still remembered the horror of the dead form of his lover, the last time he’d ever looked at him. Generations later, it still made him shiver. He wished more than anything that he could be engulfed in Ugetsu’s warm arms again and the old battle wounds could finally be healed.

However, as always, he had to take care of business first. He lifted his head and looked Gokudera straight in the eye, feeling superior as he looked at a younger version of himself. He hated to admit that they were so alike, but the Decimo storm guardian was so much like his younger self that it freaked him out. And so, thinking back on his past, G knew he would have to teach Gokudera everything he wished he’d known when he was his age. Which was millennia ago… That was a still a bit weird to think about. In September it’d be what, his 500th birthday? Yeesh he was old.

“So Decimo storm guardian,” G said, sneering cockily, “If you’re serious about following in my footsteps, you’ll have to show me that you’ve got skills and guts.”

Gokudera looked back at him defiantly and G had to raise an eyebrow at the cocky attitude of the brat before him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

“What?” G had to laugh. “You really are serious.”

“I swear on my pride as the boss’ right-hand man that I’ll show I’m worthy of inheriting your power!” Gokudera shouted. G had to admit he was taken aback by his intensity; he knew he’d been crazy intense as a kid, but this was just ridiculous. Gokudera would have to show he meant it beyond mere words.

“Hmph. Then I look forward to it, brat.” G honestly wanted to stay in argue, since that’s what he did best, but he felt a tugging on his consciousness that he just couldn’t ignore.

Giotto was calling him.

Willing his spirit away, G felt the flames engulf him as he followed Giotto’s mental instructions. The clearing of Namimori Shrine… He’d been there before, or he should say Gokudera had been there before, but the place never had held as much significance as it did now. He’d finally be able to see everyone again. He wasn’t usually a very emotional person, but even the thought of seeing that bastard Alaude again was bringing tears to his eyes.

It had just been so long.

When he rematerialized the first thing he saw was Giotto. The man had his back to him and was looking up into the starry night sky. For a moment, G didn’t announce his presence and just watched the Vongola boss’ back, the back he had decided to dedicate his life to all that time ago.

Giotto’s Hyper Intuition soon sensed him, however, and he turned around to face G. The raw emotion on his face almost made the storm guardian cry and he had to smirk gently to prevent embarrassing himself. “G…”

“It’s been a long time… Primo,” G finished, shooting his friend a teasing grin.

Giotto sighed in exasperation before he laughed. “Come on G; I don’t think my poor old heart can handle hearing you call me that.”

G smiled widely as he walked over and drew his oldest friend into a bear hug. He could hear Giotto laughing and he found himself laughing too. It had been so damn long since he’d been this happy. When he’d died he thought he’d never get to spend another fun moment with his friend again. Once they’d joined the mafia they’d had less time to just sit back and relax; to do so now, after they had suffered so much pain, was a huge relief.

When they separated from their hug, flames of four other colors erupted around them. Out of them stood Alaude, Knuckle, Lampo, and…

G almost fell over when he saw Ugetsu appear a few feet away from him. The rain guardian smiled at him and before he even had time to be conscious G found himself tackling Ugetsu and burying his face in his chest. He really did feel a few tears blearing his eyes as he held the love of his life (and death) as tightly as he could. Even after everything, he still couldn’t believe that he could see and hold his lover again. They had been separated for so long that the storm guardian had thought that his heart was going to explode from the longing he felt.

And now they were together again.

“G, I…” Ugestu’s voice cracked and G snorted. He couldn’t keep a stupid grin off of his face. “I am so happy…”

G pulled back, giving his rain guardian a knowing look before he leaned forward and kissed him. He didn’t even bother to try and speak, since he knew his actions always spoke louder than his words.

When they pulled apart, G happened to glance around at the other guardians and saw they were having reunions of their own. Lampo had jumped at Giotto, tears and snot dribbling down his face as he hugged him tightly and Knuckle had stepped towards Alaude, the two leaning their heads together to speak words that G couldn’t hear.

G smiled softly. Everyone was finally back together again.

“It makes me so happy we’re all together again,” Giotto said after a few minutes had passed. Lampo was still clinging to the only person he could really call his father, and Giotto had his arm wrapped around the teen’s shoulders. “I feel I should first apologize for what happened so long ago… I…”

Ugetsu held up his hand as G stood up straight, becoming all-business again. “Giotto, please. I do not think any of us blame you now. Quoting words you once told me, “Let’s forget about it, shall we?’”

G snickered and Giotto smiled, the kind of smile that had been rare in the last few months they’d all been alive. “Alright. Thank you, Ugetsu.”

“So… What to the extreme is even going on right now?” Knuckle spoke up, tilting his head to the side in confusion. Ironically, he looked much younger than he had right before he died: the stress and depression that had loaded so heavily on him was completely lifted. He looked happy and free, just the way he used to be. “I’ve never heard of anything like this from reading the Bible.”

Alaude snorted, but G noticed Knuckle didn’t pay any attention.

“As I’m sure you’ve all figured out by now, our consciousness have been preserved in the Vongola rings. I don’t know how or why, but I do know that we’ve been released for one reason: to assist the Decimo,” Giotto explained.

“We’re supposed to grant them our inheritance if we think they’re worthy, right?” G spoke up, crossing his arms across his chest.

Giotto nodded. “Yes. I’ll leave the methods up to you, as I trust you know what you’re testing them for. And, if you don’t, think about what you wish your younger self had known and find a way to show them that.”

“Do we have a specific order?” Alaude asked. He was surprisingly cooperative, though G supposed he always did do what Giotto asked of him. “I have no interest in dealing with that child more than I have to.”

“Same here,” Lampo grumbled. G had to hold back laughter; he’d seen that cow brat that the teen had to deal with. Poor Lampo.

“After observing the guardians individually, I believe I have an order, yes. I’ll go last, of course, but Ugetsu,” Giotto turned to look at the rain guardian, “I want you to go first – I think Yamamoto needs the most help right now.”

Ugetsu sighed. “Yes, I had noticed that he has been losing sight of himself lately. I will do everything in my power to guide him.”

“Thank you,” Giotto smiled before looking back at the rest of the group. “The order after that will be Lampo, G, Alaude, Knuckle, and…”

Giotto broke off, but G knew that what he’d meant to say was weighing on everyone’s minds: _Daemon_. What were they going to do about him? He was no doubt free from the rings as well, since he was a guardian, but who knew what chaos he’d try to cause in this era? Just the thought made G’s vision turn red with anger.

“That bastard has no right to teach anyone how to be anything,” G growled.

Giotto sighed. “We’ll have to figure out what to do with him later. I’ll dedicate myself to try and find him and talk some sense into him.” When everyone looked skeptical, Giotto argued, “Who knows? Maybe being dead for eight generations has made him change his mind about something.”

“He’ll never change,” Alaude scoffed cynically. No one dared to argue.

Silence fell over them briefly before Lampo jumped out of Giotto’s arms and pumped his fists in the air, determination and excitement burning in his eyes.

“Who wants to go exploring?!”

G scoffed. Sometimes the kid knew exactly what to say. As everyone agreed to go (even Alaude, which was surprising), G walked with Lampo in the lead. He ruffled the teen’s hair and gave him a small smile.

He was glad to be somewhat alive again.

 

\--

 

Ugetsu sat on the roof of Namimori Shrine, staring down at the Vongola Decimo. He had just deemed Yamamoto worthy of his inheritance, and he and his family were celebrating down below. Their antics brought a smile to the rain guardian’s face; they really did remind him of old times when his own family would just sit around and have fun together. At least they were together again now, though thinking about it too much made him sad as he knew it was only temporary.

Shaking himself, Ugetsu pushed his thoughts away. He’d just have to enjoy it while he could.

A pocket watch clicked shut behind him and he turned, startled, only to see that G had joined him on the roof. As the rain guardian smiled at him, he saw that G too was looking down at the Decimo with a sad look on his face. It wasn’t hard for Ugetsu to tell that his storm guardian was also remembering old times.

“I can’t believe you gave him a second chance,” G scoffed after a while. He smirked down at Ugetsu. “You’ve always been a big softie.”

“Are you really that surprised?” Ugetsu teased before he chuckled into his sleeve.

G glared at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing, just remembering the past.” Ugetsu shook his head before he held his arm out to his lover and said softly, “Come here.”

G arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing as he sat next to Ugetsu on the roof. As the rain guardian wrapped his arm around G’s skinny waist, he felt the storm guardian immediately lean into him, his head on his shoulder. Ugetsu then leaned his head against G’s and closed his eyes in contentment.

It’d been too long since he’d been able to sit with G like this, and he was glad some things never changed.

When they were settled, Ugetsu looked down at the Decimo again. “They greatly resemble us.”

“No shit,” G snorted sarcastically before he bumped his head lightly into Ugetsu’s shoulder. “Don’t remind me. I’d rather not think about how I used to be such an annoying brat.”

“’Used to be’?” Ugetsu asked innocently, only laughing when G punched his arm.

“Shut it,” G grumbled, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly. Ugetsu only chuckled again and kissed the storm guardian’s temple.

They sat in silence for a while, even after the Decimo were long gone, watching the starry sky that they hadn’t seen in generations. Ugetsu wondered what it would’ve been like to grow old with G; to live together for much longer than they had and share more fun adventures. He wished he could’ve traveled the world with G and do more and see more than just what the mafia had entitled back then. He would’ve liked to take him to Japan when he was alive.

It then occurred to him, with that thought, that they were in Japan now.

“Hey G,” Ugetsu said softly, not wanting to break the serene peace the couple had transcended into. G grunted in response. “Do you remember when I went to Japan for a few years back when we were alive?”

G squirmed. “Of course I remember. It was torture.”

Ugetsu smiled and gave him that one. “Well, as I think I told you, I started a dojo while I was over here, teaching the art of swords and martial arts and the like.”

“I remember. Get on with it.”

“Well I do not know if this is a huge coincidence, or if there really is some kind of fate, but when I came back to Italy I left the dojo with a friend of mine, someone of the surname ‘Yamamoto.’”

G sat up abruptly and stared at Ugetsu with a grin on his face. “No way.”

Ugetsu nodded, smiling back at his partner. “Way. I did not make the connection when Takeshi Yamamoto was first given the ring, since Yamamoto is a common surname in Japan, but I realized that he lives in the very dojo I built. He even uses it quite frequently, practicing swordplay and whatnot.”

“That’s crazy!” G laughed. “What’s the chance of the great-great-great-however-the-hell-old-we-are ancestor of your friend becoming the tenth generation Vongola rain guardian? It’s kind of weird, actually.”

Ugetsu laughed as well. “It is kind of weird. But I mainly brought it up because I wanted to show you the dojo. If you want,” he added hurriedly.

G just scoffed before he leaned over and kissed Ugetsu, cupping the rain guardian’s cheek in his hand. Ugetsu kissed him back, happiness swelling in his chest as he lifted his hand to cover his lover’s. When they broke apart slowly, G looked at him with his giant Cyclops eye. “Of course I want to see it, idiot.”

Ugetsu smiled in excitement as he stood up, holding out his hands to help G up. G, being the stubborn person he was, stood up on his own, but the rain guardian took his hands anyway and held them, squeezing them tightly. Though he wasn’t sure why it was so important, he was happy he was finally sharing with his lover what had been such a big part in his life: it had inspired his move to Japan, as well as developed the love he held for the country. That he was now letting G in on that made Ugetsu feel like they really were sharing everything, and that thought made him unbearably happy.

“Just follow my thoughts,” he said to G, who merely rolled his eyes.

“As if I didn’t know that.”

Ugetsu just smiled and closed his eyes, focusing his mind on the place he could remember so well, despite having last been there physically nine generations ago. With a burning of flames and a rush of air, the couple left the temple.

When the dizziness faded and the rain guardian could focus on his surroundings again, he opened his eyes to find that he and G were in the empty dojo. Yamamoto had no doubt given himself a break after passing his inheritance, either spending time with Tsuna and the others or his father.

Ugetsu had always liked Yamamoto Senior. He was a bright, cheery fellow who was very supportive of his son in whatever he did. Ugetsu was jealous of that: he had been abandoned in a horrid orphanage (where he’d met Giotto and G) from when he was young and had never had the experience, though he’d always wished he had. He also envied how Yamamoto Senior seemed to understand everything about his son without ever having to ask and how well he dealt with the knowledge. Looking back on his life, Ugetsu knew he would’ve greatly loved and had greatly needed a father figure growing up. He loved Giotto and G, but a trusty adult who he could’ve gone to for advice would’ve saved him from so many past mistakes.

Pushing his sudden melancholy out of his mind, Ugetsu looked around the dojo. He could just imagine it how it had been when he had taught there because not much had changed: there were still the woodblock paintings he’d hung in various places on the walls; his surname was still written on the sign outside; the old desk he’d used to write letters to G was still in shape, though it had been pushed to the side; and there was still the hole in the wall that Ugetsu had accidentally put there when giving an especially hard demonstration to his students. The only difference was that the dojo wasn’t filled to burst with people and now looked like it was only used by one person (which it was).

Though it would’ve disappointed him at one time, he was glad the dojo was empty now.

“This is it,” he said to G, who started to look around, as if he was looking for some aspect of Ugetsu in the place. The rain guardian wondered if there still was any.

G, of course, marched right up to the hole in the wall and snorted as he pointed at it, looking back at Ugetsu. “Did you do this?”

Ugetsu could feel himself flush with embarrassment. “… Yes…”

G burst out laughing before he kneeled down, looking at the hole from different aspects. Each new angle would make him laugh again, while Ugetsu stood off to the side getting redder and redder. He didn’t know why his lover found it so amusing, but he knew he was getting more and more embarrassed by the minute.

“G…” Ugetsu moved over and put his hands on the storm guardian’s shoulders, gently directing him away from the hole, “Please stop; I am already embarrassed about it.”

“That’s why it’s so damn funny!” G snorted before he laughed again, but he let Ugetsu pull him away from the hole.

After that he behaved himself. He walked around the dojo, peeking into everything he could find and intensely investigating each thing he found. Ugetsu wasn’t sure why, but he appreciated that G was taking so much time and being so considerate to the place that the rain guardian had poured his heart and soul into.

Eventually G stopped in the middle of the room and abruptly lay down on the tatami floor. He stared up at the ceiling and didn’t move until Ugetsu joined him on the floor. When the rain guardian moved to curl his body around his lover, G rolled into a ball and buried his head in Ugetsu’s chest, falling into their old sleeping positions. The rain guardian smiled, still surprised by how much they remembered. He could almost delusion himself into believing that they were still alive and that they were just on a vacation together. He supposed that was partly true, besides the alive part, and he felt himself become sad again. He didn’t want to leave G again to face eternal solitude in the Vongola rain ring.

“It reminds me of you,” G whispered after a while as he lay cuddled into Ugetsu’s side. The rain guardian curled tighter around him. “I don’t know – I can just kind of see you living here.”

Ugetsu kissed his forehead, melancholy rising in his chest at the storm guardian’s words. “I wish we could live here together forever.”

“Maybe we can.” G smirked and closed his eyes, moving his leg to rest it between Ugetsu’s legs. Ugetsu rubbed small circles in the storm guardian’s hip as he continued, “I’ve seen the way Yamamoto looks at Gokudera when he thinks no one’s watching. Maybe if the guardians are close, the Primo in the rings can be close too.”

“Do you think that is possible?” Ugetsu asked. He didn’t want to be skeptical, but it had never happened before.

“Maybe. We sure as hell better try.”

Ugetsu laughed and buried his nose in G’s red hair. “I love you.”

“What, for trying to break this damn curse and stay together?” G smirked before he leaned up and pecked a kiss on Ugetsu’s chin. “I love you too.”

For a moment, the rain guardian was tempted to voice his fears: what if these truly were their last moments together? What if their efforts didn’t pay off and after this they would be left to their isolation? However, he decided not to say anything, as he didn’t want to taint the happiness of being together with worries of the future. Besides, when he’d first died and found himself trapped in the Vongola ring, he’d thought he’d never get to see G ever again. And yet, here they were. Maybe anything was possible. And, if G was willing to try everything to be together again, then Ugetsu would too. He knew from experience that nothing was worse than being separated from his lover; he would just have to do everything in his power to make sure they stayed together.

Ugetsu leaned down and kissed G fully on the lips. When they separated, he placed his forehead against G’s. “I will do everything in my power to prevent our separation.”

“I will too, dammit,” G responded immediately, reaching over and grabbing Ugetsu’s hand in his. He intertwined their fingers. “I won’t let anyone ever take you away from me again.”

“Then it’s a promise,” Ugetsu laughed, smiling.

As he lay with G in his arms, happy and content for the first time in generations, Ugetsu suddenly realized that he wasn’t as melancholy as he had been before. Somehow he knew everything would be alright: with the two of them working as hard as they could on their relationship, nothing could stop them. It had always held true when they were alive, so why couldn’t it when they were dead? They’d find a way to be together forever, he was sure of it.

Ugetsu closed his eyes and buried his face in G’s hair, smiling.

An eternity with G sounded like the best thing in the world.

 

\--

 

Alaude stared up at the large, gray building, not sure what to think of it. It looked the same as it always had been, though, of course, much, much older. The glass windows were still tinted with dark bullet-proof glass and the walls were sturdy and smooth. The building did have some differences, though, as it had been upgraded with the new technologies of the century: a state of the art security system was built in, and the cloud guardian could see small cameras above the front entrance. He smirked to himself.

Who knew that the CEDEF would last for so long? Alaude couldn’t help but feel pride that the organization he’d created was still going strong after all these years.

A yellow flame erupted a few feet away from him, and the cloud guardian looked at it, not surprised. He had suspected that Knuckle would eventually find him here: the sun guardian was the only person who knew how to find Alaude when he really wanted to. He was the only one who really understood him and what he was thinking. Alaude smirked.

Maybe that was why he loved him so much.

When Knuckle’s spirit came into focus, he looked up at the CEDEF’s headquarters and nodded. “I knew I’d extremely find you here!”

“It isn’t hard… for you.” Alaude followed the sun guardian’s gaze and looked up at the building again. He had an itching to go inside, but something held him back. He had known everything and held every secret in the palm of his hand for so long that he felt out of place not knowing the CEDEF’s current business, and yet…

He didn’t want to bring up Knuckle’s secret again. The sun guardian had seemed to finally find a peace with himself and his actions in his death, and the cloud guardian didn’t want to ruin that by bringing back bad memories. Gregario’s betrayal still angered him, and all he really wanted to do was burn the file so no one would ever be able to take advantage of Knuckle again.

Suddenly, with that thought, Alaude knew what he had to do. He turned to Knuckle. “Come inside with me.”

“Eh?! You want me to go in?!” Knuckle shouted too loudly. “I extremely don’t want to know everyone’s secrets!”

“You don’t have to look,” Alaude snapped irritably. “It’s not like we keep that stuff out in the open. Besides, it’s important.”

Knuckle still looked skeptical, but he agreed to go in. Alaude’s brow furrowed a little as they passed through the wall of the building; he didn’t know why it was so hard to get Knuckle to do things sometimes. However, his irritation soon passed to be replaced with a feeling the cloud guardian wasn’t used to: awkwardness.

The two had made amends briefly before they’d died, but Alaude wondered if that still stood: could he still consider Knuckle as his lover? Had Knuckle even forgiven him? He had no idea what the sun guardian thought of him anymore – he wasn’t good at human emotions, which was why he despised them so much. He assumed the sun guardian wouldn’t come looking for him if he didn’t want to be around him, and yet that gave him no clue on where they stood romantically.

Alaude pushed the thoughts out of his head with a half-snarl. Screw it – he was done with emotions.

The two Vongola guardians walked down the hall in silence, Knuckle slightly hanging back as to allow Alaude to take a lead. The cloud guardian was grateful for the spacing, as it gave him an excuse not to take up conversation.

Heading for the boss’ office, Alaude was faintly surprised that he remembered the way. Though the outside of the building had remained unchanged, the inside had changed a lot – the wooden floors had all been replaced with a cold tile and the walls that had been degrading were now enforced with some kind of shiny metal. There were new corridors as well, which Alaude assumed were used to house the new information and employees as the agency grew.

Alaude only got lost once on the way, though he pretended he hadn’t made a wrong turn and Knuckle never questioned. Eventually, however, they found the door of the office that had been Alaude’s so long ago. He hesitated for a moment outside – did he really want to reenter this solitary world?

“I wonder who’s the boss now?” Knuckle commented, breaking Alaude out of his thoughts. The interruption was all the cloud guardian needed to reawaken his curiosity, get over his hesitancy, and walk through the door.

Inside he was met with a giant picture of himself.

It was hanging on the back wall, behind a giant mahogany desk that definitely had not been Alaude’s when he’d ran the agency. It was the only thing on the walls, for the rest of the office space was taken up with cabinets of files that Alaude had found the most important to keep tabs on (or at least he assumed those were still the files there). He had no idea where the hell the picture could’ve come from, for he had absolutely no recollection of posing for anything of the sort; besides, he hated that kind of thing. However, the portrait was frighteningly accurate and it gave Alaude the creeps looking at it.

In contrast, Knuckle was at his side laughing his guts out.

“O-oh my god! I don’t know what to the extreme I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that!”

He then proceeded to laugh harder. Alaude’s eye twitched but he said nothing and instead walked directly over to one of the file cabinets, trying to ignore the stupid picture. When he opened it, he was relieved to see that all of the files he’d put in there originally were still there: he absolutely hated when his stuff was out of order. He pulled out Knuckle’s file and flipped through it. It had everything from his birth place to his dark secret (except for his relationship status, which Alaude had omitted).

“What are you looking at, Alaude?” Knuckle asked. When the cloud guardian turned to face him, he saw him put down a picture that had been sitting on the desk: in the picture sat a blonde man with a blonde beard. A smile was crinkling the corners of his eyes and he was holding a brown, spiky haired child on his lap. As Alaude walked over to the sun guardian to show him the file, he noticed that the kid had an unbearable likeness to the Vongola Decimo.

Weird how the connections kept piling up.

Alaude handed the file to Knuckle, who took it hesitantly. He had a hard expression on his face, and the cloud guardian couldn’t suppress the tinge of guilt at bringing up bad memories. However, he knew it was important.

“Did you have to bring this up now?” Knuckle whispered after a while. The cloud guardian noticed that the priest’s hands were shaking on the file as he gently took it from him. He took out the segment with Knuckle’s murder on it and held it up so that the priest could see it.

“Yes.” Looking Knuckle straight in the eye, Alaude lit up his hand and set the paper on fire. The sun guardian let out an exclamation of shock as he watched his secret burn until it was nothing but ashes. Alaude then flicked his wrist, and the debris scattered; when the dust settled, no trace of Knuckle’s crimes was left. The cloud guardian then put the file back in its place in the cabinet.

Knuckle was stunned. “Alaude… W-why?”

“I should’ve done it in the first place.” The cloud guardian met Knuckle’s eyes. “There are better ways to remember you by.”

At first, Knuckle didn’t seem to know what to say. However, tears started brimming in his eyes and, before the cloud guardian knew it, he was hugging him and kissing him as he laughed through his tears. Though Alaude usually found sudden human contact repulsing, he found he didn’t mind. Slowly he raised his arms and wrapped them around Knuckle’s waist as the priest cried on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Knuckle was whispering. “Thank you.”

Alaude didn’t generally do good deeds – he was all about making people crawl through the world on their own. He believed independence was the only strength. If people couldn’t get by on their own, they had no right to get by. He hated helping people (because when did he ever receive help as a kid?).

However, this was different. Knuckle was important to him; as much as he hated to admit it, he _wanted_ to help the sun guardian. He wanted to make sure that no one ever hurt Knuckle again, that no one would ever take advantage of him again, that he would never have to watch the priest die right in front of him again. When he was alive, Alaude had thought his feelings for Knuckle had been a sign of weakness, some small part of him that still needed to depend on someone else. Now, however, he knew it was a strength: by protecting someone, and allowing that someone to protect him, bonds grew between them that could defeat any enemy. Really, Alaude should have known that. After all, hadn’t he enjoyed teaming up with Knuckle, and hadn’t he watched the enemies become completely pulverized between the two of them?

Love was a small price to pay.

“So,” Alaude said when Knuckle had finished sniveling. The priest stood up straight to look at him. “We’re okay now?”

Knuckle seemed to get his meaning because he laughed at him. “I never thought I’d extremely hear _you_ being worried about your relationship status!”

“I’m not worried, I’m just—”

Knuckle kissed Alaude on the lips, effectively shutting him up. The cloud guardian could feel his smile against his lips. When they broke apart, the priest grinned at him. “Hearing you say that made me extremely happy, so I’m not letting you take it back! And yes, we’re okay now.”

Alaude found himself smiling, which was odd. He wasn’t used to smiling. In fact, it was kind of hurting his face. However, knowing he was together with Knuckle again brought an intense warm feeling in his chest and he found he couldn’t wipe the smile off as he usually could. He admitted he loved Knuckle, and he now knew that the priest still loved him. Not much made him happy, but this did. Another odd feeling that he’d have to get used to.

But, as they kissed again under the creepy picture of the cloud guardian, Alaude thought that he wouldn’t mind getting used to it.

 

\--

 

Lampo was happy to see Giotto and everyone again. Truly, he was.

But why did that require him to test some cow kid so he could receive Lampo’s inheritance?! _His?!_ How could that little squirt _ever_ be worthy of anything Lampo had accomplished?! Sure, it hadn’t been much, but he sure as hell was better than a stupid cow! The whole thing was offending his manhood, and he didn’t want to do it! He refused to!

Or at least, he tried to. Giotto was always good at getting the upper hand on him.

Lampo had claimed himself a castle when Giotto found him. It was nice and abandoned, which was always good for ghosts (as the teen knew from his countless movies and video games). It had pretty stained glass windows that could be opened and, when Lampo looked outside, a whole amusement park spread out in front of him. For someone who’d never really had the chance to grow up, it was the best place in the world for him to build his haunting kingdom.

Now that he was a ghost, endless possibilities were open to him! He could freak out anyone he wanted! People would be so scared that they would write stories about him, and then Lampo could have his own horror story! He would be a legend; the king of all ghosts! What could be better than that?!

Of course it would’ve been nice to be alive for a little longer, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Thinking about it only got him depressed, so he didn’t.

However, that day, Lampo was in a melancholic mood. He’d had fun haunting people, but watching everyone, especially all the little kids that visited the amusement park, was bringing up old memories of his childhood that made him sad.

He didn’t remember much before Giotto had taken him in. He’d been too young. Occasionally he remembered an icy palace and a snow-covered garden that he’d played in when he was very young, but the memory was never solid. And, every time he thought he remembered his real parents, they would be replaced with memories of Giotto being in that garden with him. It had made him so confused that he’d asked the Vongola boss about it, but he’d been clueless as to what he was talking about.

It had made him sad, but maybe it was better that he didn’t remember the parents that had abandoned him.

His memories with Giotto were much happier. But thinking back on them now made him sad as well; those days had been so simple. He wished he could go back to those days, where everyone played in the snow together. Giotto had always seemed so mature to him then, even though he had only been thirteen when he’d taken Lampo in. He had warmed so easily to Giotto that it was almost scary: he had no problem believing that the Vongola boss was his real dad. Though Giotto had always been truthful with him, sometimes Lampo wished he’d been able to believe that he had never been abandoned and that his real father loved him.

Sighing, Lampo swung his pocket watch around his finger. Giotto loved him. He knew that, so nothing else mattered. Just sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder about his true heritage.

As he stared out the window, it suddenly got really hot by Lampo’s head. The teen jumped, letting out a screech as he turned around, only to see that it was just Giotto. His cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment at the Vongola boss’ amused smile, Lampo stubbornly turned back in his chair and looked out the window.

“So this is where you were, Lampo,” Giotto commented. Lampo just knew he was looking around, judging the place the lightening guardian had staked out for himself.

“Got a problem with that?” He grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “I decided to make this my territory, and none of your judgement is going to make me change my mind.”

Giotto laughed lightly. “I wasn’t judging you, Lampo.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“You’re not going to like this,” Giotto went on, completely ignoring the teen’s tone, “but you’re up next.”

“You realize that I’m King Ghost, right?” Lampo snorted sarcastically before he gave a small glare over his shoulder. “I will not stoop to the levels of cattle.”

Giotto frowned. “That was mean, Lampo. What will happen to the Inheritance of the Lightning Guardian?”

“I can’t stand that snot-nosed brat,” Lampo spat. “The Vongola would be better off if they just left him behind.”

“Weren’t you angry when we did that to you? Do you wish that we’d prevented you from becoming the lightning guardian because you were young?”

Lampo flinched. After being dead for so long he’d kind of forgotten about the fact that he too had once been a snot-nosed brat to Giotto (though of course the Vongola boss would never call him that). If Giotto had followed the teen’s words just now, Lampo wouldn’t be where he stood today. In reality, he probably would’ve died a long time ago. Though he couldn’t remember his real parents, he did remember the horrible loneliness and hopelessness that he’d felt when he’d been abandoned. If Giotto hadn’t been there for him…

He couldn’t wish that fate on anyone. Not even a cow child.

“I guess I chose the correct location for his Inheritance test then,” the teen muttered as he stood and walked to the window. He leaned on the sill as he looked down at the people below; small children and their parents. “Can’t say no to you, Giotto.”

“Thank you, Lampo.” The teen could hear Giotto’s smile in his voice.

“Whatever.”

The Inheritance test wasn’t as bad as Lampo had feared, though it had been _incredibly_ boring. He was just glad it was over. The cow kid had passed his test, though it had taken him a lot longer than Lampo had expected and had resulted in the explosion of part of his castle (he was still pissed about that). Though he did have to admit that he’d liked the robots that had appeared randomly. They were a nice touch, and it made him feel like he was actually in one of those action movies he’d watched so long ago.

But still. It had been annoying. Especially when he’d had to stamp his disgusting little butt.

“Guess I should reward myself with some fun,” Lampo said to himself as he solidified outside of the amusement park’s arcade. When he didn’t want to be seen by anyone but other ghosts, a white mist surrounded his fuzzy form; however, when he wanted to act like a mortal, he could disperse the mist and be seen by others. He always did that when he wanted to play video games at the arcade. After all, nothing was more annoying than little kids freaking out about a game playing itself and bothering Lampo when he just needed some game time.

The modern games were… interesting. They were definitely a lot different than in Lampo’s day. Someone had created a yellow little pie circle that went around eating white dots and dodging ghosts (that was Lampo’s favorite modern game). He also liked the game where you were a big monkey smashing through things and collecting bananas. He didn’t like the street fighter games as much, just because they reminded him too much of the battle that he’d died in. It made him uncomfortable.

When Lampo entered the arcade, it was almost empty. No one usually came in during the late hours of the amusement park, which the teen was always grateful for; he didn’t want to share his games with snotty kids.

However, there was someone there when Lampo headed for the Pac-Man game. Pac-Man was often busy, as it was popular, which was why the teen always preferred to come with less people. Those that were still there were often teenagers, spending the last of their money and time on the games that they’d grown up playing. So it wasn’t that strange that Pac-Man was occupied.

What was strange was that it was a girl. Lampo wasn’t sexist, and he believed that everyone, regardless of gender, should be allowed to be interested in video games, but he just didn’t see very many girls in old arcades like the one in the middle of his amusement park. He especially never saw girls at the nighttime hour when he always went.

Peaking his curiosity, Lampo creeped to where he could get a better view of the girl playing. He whistled. She was pretty: she had light auburn hair that had a greenish tint from the Pac-Man screen up in a messy ponytail that looked like she’d merely pulled it back because it annoyed her. Her eyes, completely focused on the game, were the prettiest shade of hazel Lampo had ever seen. She wore a Nirvana T-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans. However, even though Lampo was completely blown away by her appearance, that wasn’t even the best part.

She kicked butt.

When the teen pulled his eyes away from her and watched her screen, Lampo saw that she had transcended any level he’d ever beaten. Her form was calm and controlled as her fingers flew over the controls, making one of the hardest levels of the game look easy.

Lampo was seriously impressed.

He watched her until she lost, which was about twenty levels past Lampo’s high score. By that point the teen could barely think; his mind was so dazzled he almost missed his chance. She patted her hands on the machine, as if she was telling it, “good match” before she began to walk away.

Before she could get too far, Lampo caught up to her. “Hey, that was amazing what you just did there!”

“What?” She didn’t sound angry, but confused. It took her a while but then her eyes lit up and she made an “o” shape with her mouth. “Oh, you mean on Pac-Man? It wasn’t my best run – I didn’t get much sleep last night so I wasn’t up to my usual par. Oh well. You win some, you lose some, you know what I mean?”

Lampo’s mouth dropped. “You mean that wasn’t even your high score?! But that was amazing! Your hands were just so controlled and you were kicking some serious butt back there…!”

He broke off, as she started to laugh at him. Lampo was suddenly self-conscious, wondering if he was sounding like a dork. He decided to switch tactics as he walked with her out of the arcade.

“Do you come here often?”

“No,” she didn’t seem to mind the questions, or even that he was walking with her, and Lampo couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t the only nerd that had followed her out of the arcade. “I just heard they had a rare game here, but got distracted by Pac-Man. He’s my favorite.”

“Mine too!” Lampo shouted, getting a little more excited than he probably should have. “I haven’t played many games from this age, but…”

“What does that mean?” She asked suddenly, and Lampo felt like punching himself. He should’ve been more careful about what he was saying!

“Uh… I mean, uh, I play a lot of old-school games! You know, like, ‘Spacewar!’?”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t even know you could still find consoles that played that these days! That’s awesome – you have to let me play it sometime!”

Lampo stood there awkwardly, trying to figure out how he could say that he no longer had the game without revealing that he was really dead and born about 450 years ago. He liked this girl, and he didn’t want to scare her away. Yet he couldn’t deny that he didn’t have the game anymore, or even the console. How could he explain that he had played it back when it was common?

“Can I ask you a personal question, since you’ve asked so much about me?” She said suddenly, poking Lampo in the chest.

The teen flushed. “Uh… Sure?”

“Your name?”

“Oh.” Lampo smiled – he’d worried it was going to be something he wouldn’t be able to answer. “Lampo.”

“Huh, you have a funny name,” she teased. “I’m Ronda.”

“Well you have a funny name, too,” he teased back without even thinking. For a moment he worried he’d offended her, but she just laughed good-naturedly.

“I guess we make a good pair then! Hey, are you coming to the arcade tomorrow? We could play a few rounds of Donkey Kong, see who’s better.”

Lampo’s heart leaped to his throat. She liked Donkey Kong, too? Man, could this girl get any more amazing?! Though Lampo had a feeling he would get beaten to a pulp, he didn’t even mind – he would meet her at the ends of the earth if she’d asked him to.

“I would love to!”

She smirked. “Cool. Then I’ll see you tomorrow, around five maybe?”

Lampo couldn’t keep a silly grin off his face. “Till then, Ronda.”

“You even talk old,” Ronda teased before she waved and walked the opposite way from Lampo’s castle.

The teen knew he was in love. As he watched her go, he almost felt his dead heart’s erratic beating and couldn’t force away the flush that was still prominent on his cheeks. He felt elated, like he could just float away. With his family, Lampo had very different views of love: though in some ways that itself was another view. Love was personal for each person. Lampo knew that all he wanted in a partner was someone he could have a lifetime of fun with, and he felt that would be possible with Ronda.

He knew he couldn’t have her. He knew that it would be unfair to both of them, as it would be impossible for someone who was dead to ever stay with the living. Besides, he was only free temporarily. However, he also knew that he would enjoy her company as much as he could before he had to return to the Vongola ring.

And, when he did return, he would always remember Ronda: the girl who stole his heart when he thought it would never beat again.

 

\--

 

Knuckle had come to peace with his religion.

He’d finally found his loophole. Though love for Alaude had filled his heart when he’d died, he had to admit that his last thought was his fear that he would be going to hell. After all, God couldn’t forgive _all_ of the sins he’d committed; Knuckle had truly believed that he deserved nothing more.

Now that he knew he wasn’t going to hell, however, but preserved for eternity, he realized that all along his love had never been a sin. Though the isolation was its own type of hell, it wasn’t the kind that Knuckle had expected. God hadn’t punished him for being in love; He hadn’t really rewarded him either, but the priest was perfectly fine with that. If he could be free to love Alaude to his heart’s content, it didn’t matter if he wasn’t accepted into heaven.

God was behind Knuckle’s choices, and nothing had ever made the priest feel freer.

That was part of the reason why Knuckle couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot as he stood in front of the Vongola Decimo, Alaude at his side. They were about to grant Ryohei and Hibari their Inheritances, and that was his other reason. He wasn’t really sure why, but it made him extremely happy that he and Alaude were giving their Inheritances together. It just seemed like another sign that Knuckle was destined to be together with the cloud guardian.

Nothing else could make him smile harder.

A voice that sounded a little too familiar for comfort spoke up. “But more importantly… Will you fight me?”

Knuckle had to hold back extreme laughter as he watched Hibari stand there, frosty-eyed with his tonfas raised in an offensive stance. It was extremely weird that the Decimo resembled the Primo so much, and yet the sun guardian felt a warmth in his chest looking at young Hibari.

He remembered when he thought Alaude was a huge jerk. The cloud guardian had joined the Vongola (if you could call it joining… Alaude was more associated with the Vongola than an actual member) shortly after Knuckle, and the priest remembered how much he’d been frustrated with him. At the time, he couldn’t understand why the cloud guardian was so set on being distant and aloof from everyone. It had bothered him. What was the meaning of family if not a sense of closeness? Alaude definitely hadn’t been close.

However, that opinion had changed after Knuckle had begun to actively discover why Alaude kept his distance. The more he pissed off the cloud guardian, the more he began to see a new side of him. He saw a man who loved nature; he saw a man who fought to the death to protect his comrades when he had to. However, more than that, he saw someone who didn’t want to open up to anyone in fear he was hurt. Knuckle didn’t think Alaude was actually conscious that he was doing that, but the more time he spent with him the more the priest saw it. It broke his heart, and for reasons unknown to him at the time, he’d fought to change that. He didn’t want to see the cloud guardian lonely and sad anymore.

Though it had taken time, and lots of it, Knuckle had been able to get to the point where he could have an actual conversation with Alaude, be able to call him his companion. Alaude’s frozen heart had begun to melt. Somewhere along the way Knuckle had fallen in love with him and now, after all these years, nothing made him happier than seeing Alaude in a state of, if not happiness, peace.

Seeing Hibari now, it was like he was seeing Alaude for the first time. It made him nostalgic. He just hoped there would be someone to warm Hibari’s heart the way Knuckle had done for Alaude.

“He’s exactly the way you used to be,” Knuckle chuckled to Alaude, giving him a knowing look.

Alaude met his gaze for a moment before he turned away, scoffing.

Knuckle just laughed. He knew the cloud guardian only put on airs when there were other humans about.

Facing the Decimo guardians again, and in perfect unison, Knuckle and Alaude said, “I now bequeath your Inheritance.”

Later, Knuckle met Alaude in a small park in the middle of Namimori’s residential area. When he materialized, he found the cloud guardian looking up at the cherry blossoms in full bloom. A small smile graced his lips. He’d always loved Alaude’s soft spot for nature. Not wanting to disturb his lover’s peace, Knuckle quietly walked over to stand at the cloud guardian’s shoulder. Alaude didn’t physically note his presence, but the priest knew he knew he was there. Knuckle smiled like a doofus again as he looked silently up at the pretty flowers.

If he’d learned anything in his relationship with Alaude, it was how to be quiet for a long period of time.

“Do you still believe in God?” Alaude asked after a while, surprisingly breaking the silence.

Knuckle was prepared for the question, knowing that it would’ve come up eventually. “Yes. I know you don’t approve, but my beliefs mean a lot to me.”

Alaude turned to stare at him. Knuckle admired his cool, blue eyes. “Even after you’ve seen the afterlife?”

“Yeah.” Knuckle laughed before he dared to lace his fingers through Alaude’s. “All this has shown me is that God isn’t extremely against me and you.”

The cloud guardian looked away, but he didn’t remove his hand. It was a while before he replied, but when he did he was so quiet Knuckle almost didn’t hear him. “… I’ve always known that.”

The sun guardian smiled sadly. He was fully conscious of how much pain his religious problems had dealt to both of them. He moved closer to Alaude and pushed a lock of his blonde hair behind his ear as he leaned forward to kiss him gently. The cloud guardian responded almost immediately, his forehead touching Knuckle’s as he kissed back. When they parted, Knuckle kept his face comfortably rested on Alaude’s, his eyes closed.

He wanted to savor this moment as long as possible.

“I truly am sorry for all the pain I caused you; that was the extreme opposite of what I always worked so hard to do.” Knuckle squeezed Alaude’s hand. “If it makes you happy, then I extremely promise to never let my religion get between us again.”

Alaude smirked as he pulled away gently. Knuckle met his gaze, surprised by the raw emotion on his lover’s face. It wasn’t often that Alaude opened up so completely, even to the sun guardian.

“I’m not used to being happy,” Alaude murmured. “All my life I believed that I had to push people around if I didn’t want to get pushed myself.

“I still believe that,” he added hurriedly when Knuckle began to grin at him. “It’s just… I think I can get used to being happy… with you.”

Knuckle was smiling so hard his face was burning. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Alaude.”

The cloud guardian scoffed and looked away, but Knuckle knew him well enough to see the humor in his eyes. “Don’t get used to it, herbivore.”

The priest laughed out loud at that. Alaude hadn’t called him an herbivore for nine generations and a few years. It was the nickname the cloud guardian had given everyone who hadn’t earned his respect. Apparently he’d picked it up from a nature documentary that he’d loved as a child, as Knuckle had learned later, since the “weak animals” to him had always seemed to be called “herbivores.” Though it had once annoyed the priest, he now found it endearing.

“I’ll try not to, carnivore,” he retorted, trying hard to control his laughter.

Alaude only smirked before he leaned in to kiss Knuckle again.

As they stood there, kissing under Alaude’s favorite item of nature, Knuckle thought his heart would explode from his overwhelming emotions. Though he’d loved the cloud guardian before, he’d never loved him as freely as he did now. Before, his emotions had always been clouded with doubt; every action was laced with guilt. Now, he was free to love as much as possible.

It had been absolutely horrid in the weeks before they had died, but now that they had made amends, Knuckle knew they would never separate again. He loved Alaude, and he was willing to shout that to the rooftops if that’s what it took. Not even the curse of the Vongola ring would get in his way.

Nothing could extremely convince him to leave Alaude. Ever.

 

\--

 

Daemon woke up confused and lost. Usually solitude didn’t affect him, but that eternal darkness and isolation had. If it was possible, it made him go more insane than he already was.

He’d spent two generations waiting for Elena. He then spent two more agonizing over the fact that the fates truly were cruel if he’d done _everything_ that he’d done when he was alive, only to never see his fiancée again. It only took one generation for his agony to turn to cold-blooded anger. It wasn’t directed at any particular thing; he just hated everything in existence. For three generations he funneled his frustration and pain into finding an escape from the blackness that engulfed him. It was only in the latest generation, when the Vongola Decimo claimed possession of the Vongola rings, that Daemon actually focused on what was going on around him. That, however, had been preceded by a bout of madness.

By that point, his mind had been so grated on for an impossible amount of time that he truly went insane. He had entertained himself with his own illusions for so long that he had no idea what was fake and what was real. Time and space were irrelevant. Sometimes he would wake up, annoyed at someone laughing in his ear, only to discover he was the one laughing.

He had quite literally lost his mind in the blackness that had snatched his soul.

When he was released from the ring, he almost didn’t notice. The light of the setting sun did reach him, however, and confused him further. He didn’t know what was blinding him. What existed outside of darkness? He had no recollection of who he was or what he was doing; he remembered falling through darkness. His mind would flicker through memories like an old movie so that eventually they became nothing but fiction. However, there was one thing he could never forget.

Elena. Where was she?

“Elena!” Daemon shouted, stumbling to his feet. Vaguely he processed that he was in an abandoned building, but he could only focus on a girl that was sitting in front of him. Blinded by his own madness, Daemon kneeled and grabbed the girl’s shoulders, sobbing in relief. “Elena… Oh gods, thank you for keeping her safe…”

“Who’s… Elena?” A high voice questioned. The mist guardian heard the fear in it.

… That wasn’t right.

Slowly Daemon raised his head to look at the girl in front of him. What he saw nearly shocked him into unconsciousness.

She… was _him_. Though her hair was darker, it was cut in the same way that he had always had his hair. It spiked sharply in the back while the bangs were parted to each side of the face. G had always teased Daemon, saying he looked like a pineapple with his haircut. The mist guardian had always ignored him, but…

… Wait. Who the hell was G?!

“No… Who are you?!” Daemon screamed as he backed away from the girl, clutching his head. “Who am I?!”

“I-I’m Chrome,” the girl stuttered, looking as frightened as she sounded as she shivered. “And you’re… Daemon Spade, r-right?

Daemon Spade. Yes, that sounded right…. Didn’t it?

He started laughing, though his mind thought it was coming from somewhere else. Quickly his anger returned; he was _sick_ of that damn person laughing! Couldn’t he have _any_ peace?! “ ** _Shut up!!_** ”

Chrome had stopped shaking, and was standing from where she sat on the ground. She began to slowly approach him. He watched her, not recognizing that she was closing any space – it had all been irrelevant in the blackness.

Suddenly he found himself outside, surrounded by a group of people he didn’t recognize. At first glance. They were just intruders to his kingdom. _He_ ruled this place; or at least someone in his ear kept telling him that. When he looked down at the crowd, however, he saw someone that made his desire to protect his palace stronger.

“Giotto!” He roared, his vision turning red.

He had almost no recollection of what happened next. He had vague memories of splitting himself into five different people, and fighting figures that sometimes looked like the Primo, sometimes didn’t. He remembered that the girl he’d thought was Elena had changed into a man and fought him. He remembered Giotto jumping in front of himself, or someone that looked like him, and blocking Daemon’s strikes.

But none of those memories were solid. For all he knew, his delusional brain had made it all up.

The first thing he was conscious of, the first thing he was conscious of in years, was the softness of the bed he was lying on. It seemed to wrap him up in warm arms and he sighed in content as he felt his mind cleansing.

He didn’t know for how long he lay there, but his scattered mind began to pull itself back together. He remembered Elena in all her glory, though he’d never really forgotten her. He remembered the pain and anguish at her death, and how he’d blamed his family for it. Along with those memories came the ones of when he would sit with the Vongola and have _fun_. Goodness what a strange concept. He used to play soccer with Lampo in the back courtyard, even occasionally letting the child win when he was in a good mood. He used to have tea with G and Ugetsu; he used to attend Knuckle’s sermons with Elena. He used to talk with Giotto, confide in him like a brother. He’d never gotten along with Alaude, but he remembered all of that too. He remembered Ricardo, the bitterness he’d felt when he’d been betrayed, and he remembered dying next to Giotto’s corpse. He remembered all of the death he’d caused.

But, most importantly, he remembered who he was: he was Daemon Spade, Giotto’s mist guardian.

“Coming out of the fog?” Giotto asked, suddenly at his side. He was sitting on a chair next to the bed that the mist guardian was lying in. When Daemon looked at him, he thought he saw bags under his eyes and tired lines across his face. He wondered how long he had been sitting there.

“Please don’t celebrate my good health with a pun,” Daemon sighed, sending a weak smile to his friend.

Giotto paused, before he laughed. “God, I didn’t even realize! Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Daemon chuckled. Briefly, he realized that he and Giotto were joking around like old times, but he worried about commenting and breaking the mood. It had been so long that he didn’t want to ruin the moment. “How long have I been out?”

“Well….” Giotto looked grim.

Daemon frowned. “Tell me the truth, Giotto.”

“It’s… been about a week. Though I’m not sure if you can say you were “out.” You’ve been awake most of the time, just not…”

“… All there?” Daemon finished. Giotto was handling the situation quite delicately, like he was walking on eggshells, but the mist guardian was all too familiar with insanity. In his field, he dealt with it quite often in his enemies. However, it wasn’t often that he was submerged in his own craziness. In fact, it had never happened before. The mist guardian shuddered. “I’m not unfamiliar with the subject.”

“… Right.”

“Giotto…” Daemon looked askew at his friend. “Have you been taking care of me all this time?”

“Yeah.” Giotto cracked a small smile. “Ghosts don’t need sleep, it seems.”

“ _Why?_ ” Daemon couldn’t stop himself from asking the question. He was done with being disillusioned; he didn’t want to believe that Giotto had forgiven him when it may not even be the case. “Aren’t you unbearably angry with me?”

The Vongola boss looked down at his hands. Daemon was preparing himself for bad news when Giotto surprised him, “No.”

“… No?” Daemon refused to believe he’d heard right.

“No,” Giotto repeated more sternly, raising his head to look the mist guardian right in the eyes. “I’m not mad at you, Daemon. I… blame myself for letting you go so easily. You’ll always be my friend, Daemon, no matter what happens.”

Daemon couldn’t answer for a moment. He was too emotional. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes and he tried to blink them away. Even after Giotto had taken him in when he’d left the aristocracy, the mist guardian wasn’t used to being considered a friend. He’d thought only Elena had loved him. In retrospect, it had probably been his fault that he’d drifted away when Elena had died; he’d never let the Vongola get close to him in the way that Elena had. His aristocrat habits had prevented him from building strong friendships with the only people that had ever cared about him, and the mist guardian suddenly felt a strong prickle of regret in his chest.

“Giotto…” Daemon’s voice cracked as he tried not to cry. “That means so much to me. More than you’ll ever know.”

The Vongola boss smiled, and the mist guardian realized that his Hyper Intuition had probably tuned him into the fact that Daemon was on the edge of tears. True to his hypothesis, Giotto held his arms out to the mist guardian. Daemon accepted the hug and the shoulder to cry on as he released his pent up sadness.

“Oh gods, Giotto, I miss her,” he sobbed after a while.

Giotto rubbed his back comfortingly. “I miss her too, Daemon. But let’s honor her memory right this time.”

Daemon could only nod as he cried. The two Vongola Primo sat in silence then, but it was a comforting silence as both Giotto and Daemon shared their pain together. Despite the sadness that pooled out of him, Daemon’s heart was warmed by the situation and he had to smile. It had taken him nine generations, but he’d finally found the thing he needed to go on without Elena: strong friendship. He would never betray Giotto again; he knew that. It would take a while for the other guardians to trust him again (he expected no less), but just knowing that he was back in the Vongola family was enough to heal old wounds in his heart. By finally sharing his burdens, he was allowing his pain to heal.

He was finally learning how to be happy again.

 

\--

 

Cozart didn’t really know where he was. He’d guessed that he was somehow inhabiting the Shimon Earth ring, and that nine generations had passed since he’d killed himself, but he didn’t know if he was right or not.

Either way, he wasn’t happy. This wasn’t the death he had welcomed. Giotto was nowhere in sight, so all he’d really done was curse himself to an eternal hell of blackness and isolation. What had been the point, if he was still alone, still suffering from all of his past mistakes? As if that wasn’t enough of a constant reminder, sometimes his temple would still throb from where he’d shot himself. His stomach churned at the thought.

Why did he bother killing himself? Why didn’t he just seek happiness from his guardians? What had he done to deserve this eternal hell? Where was Giotto?

Sometimes, Cozart focused on what was going on in the world of the living. However, everything he saw depressed him. Enma was often as depressed and lonely as Cozart was. Every day, it seemed, he was beaten up for some reason and taunted for being part of a weak mafia boss. Cozart couldn’t stand it; he couldn’t stand that he couldn’t help Enma, and he couldn’t stand that his family had become such a nobody.

In his time, they’d been on par with the Vongola.

The Vongola _._ That, too, made him dissolve into tears. The two families _hated_ each other now; instead of being the closest Mafia families, they were the world’s worst feud. As if that wasn’t bad enough, but Cozart knew that it was his fault the families had come to despise each other. If only he hadn’t left that note to kill Ricardo… Maybe the only friendship that had ever meant something to him would’ve been preserved.

For a long time Cozart just stared blankly into the blackness. Nothing motivated him. He’d given up on escaping a long time ago; he knew there was no escape. Besides, maybe this was his punishment for hurting Giotto, for being unaware and unhelpful while his friend was slaughtered…

Sobs escaped Cozart and his chest heaved as he let his tears flow down his cheeks.

Giotto…

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Cozart whispered, even though he knew the Vongola boss couldn’t hear him. “I love you…”

Later Cozart wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t glanced up at the screen in that moment. He’d needed a distraction; _anything_ to momentarily forget the pain and sadness that engulfed him when he thought about Giotto.

This distraction, however, nearly took the non-existent breath out of him.

On the screen was Giotto. Well, actually, it wasn’t Giotto, but the similarity in appearance was too creepy to be a coincidence. The kid that Enma was staring at had a large plume of spiky hair, though it was brown instead of blonde, that had only been a style on the Vongola boss. Bright orange flames burned strongly from the kid’s forehead and hands and his orange eyes were narrowed in calm concentration. It was unmistakably Giotto’s Dying Will.

Cozart leaned towards the screen, his tears dry, suddenly very focused on what was going outside. What was happening? Who was this kid?

“I will take revenge on the Vongola,” Cozart heard Enma growl. He watched as Enma opened a vial of blood (w-was that… Cozart’s blood? Gross! Who collected a vile of blood from a suicidal corpse?!) and poured it onto his Earth ring. The Shimon Primo watched in horror as he saw Enma’s arm mutate into something that looked like it belonged on a machine. “How dare you betray Cozart Shimon?!”

… Eh? Who betrayed who now?

Cozart felt bile rise to his throat as he watched Enma lunge at the Giotto look-alike. He realized that the kid had to be the Tenth Boss of the Vongola, but that realization tore his heart out as he watched the two bosses leap at each other.

He’d seen pictures of Enma, and had seen how similar he looked to himself. Watching his look-alike fight with Giotto’s look-alike, with the intention of killing each other, was unbearable to Cozart. It was like he was fighting Giotto. He would _never_ do that, could never do that. Giotto meant everything to him. He was also pained as he watched the fight ensue because he’d felt a blossoming of friendship between Enma and the current Vongola boss.

They were letting a pointless feud get in the way of a lasting friendship.

Cozart stood. He couldn’t take it anymore. He’d watched _years_ of painful bloodshed between the Vongola and the Shimon and he refused to let it go on any longer. He would restore the friendship between the two families if it was the last thing he ever did.

He had to make it up to Giotto.

**_“Stop!!”_** Cozart roared, his entire soul and heart behind the word. As generations of pain erupted from his being in that one word, he felt the world shift around him. The blackness was gone, replaced with a bright, spacious room. His sense of feel returned to him as he felt solid ground under his feet and air brush against his cheeks. When he looked around, he realized that he was standing right between Enma and the current Vongola boss, holding both back with his hands.

Before he could wonder how the heck he’d escaped from the ring, his hearing returned and he heard the shocked gasps from the people he was constraining.

“Who’s that?!” The Giotto look-alike was shouting.

“C-Cozart Shimon!” Enma screamed at the same time, ironically answering the Vongola’s question. “But how?!”

Cozart ignored the questions and threw both bosses onto the ground. His heart clenched with pain as he watched the two of them hit the ground, but he knew it was necessary. They landed next to each other, both grunting in pain. Cozart looked down on them, his voice deathly quiet as he spoke.

“This has to stop. I can’t watch another generation of bloodshed.”

Enma recovered first. He propped himself up on his elbows as he looked at Cozart’s aspiration, his face frozen in shock. “B-but, they betrayed you! The Vongola caused your death.”

Cozart’s eyes hardened with sadness. He walked over to Enma and kneeled before him. Faintly he felt his temple throb with the memory of pain as he looked the current Shimon boss in the eyes. “I don’t know how the story got so skewed. I caused my own death.”

“W-what are you saying?!” Enma’s mouth flapped.

“I killed myself, Enma.”

“B-but all the stories… about the Vongola’s ambush!” Enma pushed himself into a sitting position as he looked over at the current Vongola boss. He too was struggling into a sitting position. “They lured you into a trap and murdered you!”

“All lies,” a voice spoke up, coming out of nowhere. If Cozart had a beating heart, it would’ve stopped. He didn’t dare move. “The Vongola Secondo, Ricardo, always did like twisting the truth.”

Eventually, Cozart did turn. What he saw almost made him lose his composure and start bawling completely.

It was Giotto. Not a Giotto look-alike, but the real thing. His blond spiky hair stuck out on all ends and a strong flame burned on his forehead. His favorite black cloak hung around his shoulders and he wore a suit underneath. His I Gloves covered his hands. Cozart wondered if that was the outfit that he’d died in, as he was wearing the clothes he’d had on the day he’d committed suicide.

“Vongola Primo!” The current Vongola boss shouted as he looked at Giotto like he had two heads.

Cozart’s heart melted when Giotto smiled. It… had been so long since he’d seen it.

“Hello, Tsuna,” Giotto replied, nodding at his look-alike. Cozart couldn’t stop staring at the Vongola boss.

“How are you here?! I thought you wouldn’t come out of the rings again once your contract was over!” Tsuna was standing now. Enma, apparently not wanting to be at a disadvantage, soon scrambled to his feet.

“That’s true, but my contract hasn’t ended yet. There’s a second part; it’s just taken so long that you thought I had returned to the ring fully.”

“Second part?” Tsuna squeaked.

“Yes.” Giotto turned to look right at Cozart. “I was to grant you Inheritance; in return, I was promised help to find Cozart Shimon. And now I’ve found him.”

The Shimon boss felt his mouth go dry as tears welled up in his eyes. Giotto had spent this whole time… looking for him? Before he really realized it, he was crying. The thought that the Vongola boss didn’t absolutely hate him brought him so much relief that he couldn’t help but cry. In his eternal hell, he had repeatedly toyed with the idea that Giotto had wished his suffering after death on him. Though he knew Giotto would never do something like that, he couldn’t help but convince himself that he hated him because he’d ruined their friendship.

To know it wasn’t true was almost too much to bear.

“Giotto, I…” Cozart stood shakily as he tried to speak through his tears. However, he didn’t have a chance to continue as he started walking towards Giotto.

“Wait a minute!”

Startled by the outburst, everyone turned towards Enma. The red-haired kid was shaking so badly that the numerous bandages were starting to peel off his face. “What the heck is going on?! I’ve… I’ve been told my whole life that I had to make this family stronger so I could crush the Vongola and avenge you! Now you’re telling me that it was all a lie?! Then what actually happened?!”

Reaching Giotto, Cozart met his gaze. There was so much he wanted to say to the Vongola boss, but he knew it would have to wait. Right now, it was more important that they revealed the truth of what had happened so long ago.

Cozart faced Enma. “This is long overdue, but it’s time you knew the truth.” He glanced at Tsuna. “You should hear this too, Vongola Decimo.”

Tsuna flinched for some reason and nodded, turning his attention to Cozart and Giotto. Enma looked more frightened than anything, but Cozart sensed he was listening as well. The Shimon boss then nodded at Giotto; he was the only one who could start the story.

Giotto stepped forward. “It’s true that there was an ambush. However, the people involved in the ambush were not the exact groups that you’ve been told. In fact, it was my family, the Vongola Primo, that was lured into an ambush set up by the Vongola Secondo. We were then murdered by them.”

Shock coated the air like a heavy rain. Cozart sympathized; he understood what it was like to be told one thing all your life and then find out it wasn’t true. However, he also felt anger at Ricardo. That rotten egg hadn’t only killed Giotto, but he’d gone so far as to mask the truth to dissolve the friendship between the two families and make him seem like a victim. How dare he…

“Cozart?” Giotto was looking at him again, with a gaze that the Shimon boss couldn’t read. “Obviously, I don’t know what happens next. I’ve always wondered what happened to you after I… died.”

Though they were retelling the story for the Decimo, Cozart found himself addressing Giotto when he spoke again. It seemed important, somehow. “When I found out you’d died, I killed myself. I couldn’t imagine a life without you.”

This time it was Giotto’s turn to be shocked. His eyes widened until Cozart could see the whites around his irises. He seemed at a loss of words.

“You killed yourself because of Vongola Primo?” Enma questioned. His voice was the only thing that reminded Cozart that he and Tsuna were still there. “Why? I thought the Vongola and Shimon were always enemies.”

“Not always,” Cozart murmured, still looking at Giotto. “Giotto was… _is_ my best friend. We created our Mafia families together. Everything I ever did was because he was there, backing me up. I can’t imagine being his enemy.”

Giotto was smiling again, and the Shimon boss thought he saw him get teary-eyed. Then again, he could just be seeing things, since his own eyes were beginning to fill with tears again. He held the Vongola boss’ gaze for a long time before Giotto broke eye contact to address the Decimo again. Cozart took the time to wipe at his eyes.

“If that isn’t reason to stop fighting, I don’t know what is. Your dedication to your families is admirable, but is it really worth losing a friendship over?”

Cozart wondered if there was some experience in that advice. After all, a similar thing had happened to the Primo.

Tears filling up his eyes, Enma looked at Tsuna. The Vongola boss looked back at him. “Tsuna, I… I never wanted to fight you!”

Throwing themselves into a hug, Tsuna and Enma cried out their apologies to each other. The sight was heart-warming to Cozart and he smiled through his own tears. He’d thought it would be impossible to stop the feud he’d caused, but maybe there was hope for future generations after all.

“Cozart,” Giotto said softly, drawing the Shimon boss’ attention away from the Decimo. “Can we talk in private? I think they’ll be okay from here.”

The answer to the question was so obvious that Cozart had to laugh. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Giotto laughed as well and, as the Shimon boss stared at him, mesmerized, he teleported them away from the building.

When Cozart felt solid ground under his feet, he opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them but, as he looked around, he whistled. He and Giotto were standing in a small garden that was surrounded by cherry blossoms in full bloom. The sun was shining brightly, the heat washing over the Shimon boss, and he could smell freshly cut grass.

He couldn’t help but grin. “I love it here.”

“Me too.” When Cozart looked over at Giotto, he saw the Vongola boss looking right back at him. “I hope we can stay here for quite a while.”

“I’m glad you said ‘we,’” Cozart teased. “I don’t want to be thrown back into the ring now that I’ve stopped that blood feud.”

“Cozart, I… I have to apologize for what happened so long ago…” Giotto looked pained. “I have no excuse for—”

Though the Shimon boss was touched, he waved Giotto off. “That’s water under the bridge, Giotto. I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” Giotto responded immediately. It made Cozart happy. “But hear me out. Please.”

Cozart listened.

“Being dead for a long time gave me plenty of time to think about things, and I realized something.” Giotto took a deep breath before he looked straight at Cozart. “I love you, Cozart.”

Cozart actually laughed. He was in too much of a shock to actually make a conscious response, so his body was on autopilot. “What?”

“I don’t think I realized it before because I was so shaken up by what was happening with my family, but it’s true. I love you, Cozart Shimon. Maybe I missed my chance all those years, but I thoroughly regret my actions. I hurt you so badly, when all along I felt the same way.”

The Shimon boss was speechless. Even his autopilot was shocked into silence. He hardly dared to believe that he’d heard right. Giotto… felt the same way? He’d always hoped it was true, had had numerous dreams where it was true, but to hear it for real? Cozart pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. When he’d done that, and Giotto was still staring at him with a serious expression, he knew it was real.

Cozart grinned.

“Yahoo!” He darted forward, snatched up Giotto in his arms, and swung him around in a large circle. Giotto let out a strangled scream in surprise, but that was soon replaced with laughter as he placed his arms around Cozart’s neck. When he set the Vongola boss back on the ground, Cozart leaned forward and kissed him.

The kiss was so explosive, so dynamic, that the Shimon boss felt his knees start to wobble from the force of it. It was just so much what he’d always wanted; he didn’t think his poor old heart could take the level of happiness he was feeling.

When they drew apart, he barely stopped himself from whining in disappointment (gods, how embarrassing that would’ve been!). Instead, he pressed his forehead against Giotto’s and closed his eyes.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” he murmured against his lips. He could feel it when Giotto smiled.

“I promise. I also promise never to hurt you like I did before.” The Vongola boss grabbed Cozart’s hands and intertwined their fingers. “And these are promises I plan to keep.”

Cozart laughed, happiness blossoming in his chest as he kissed Giotto again. After generations of heartbreak, it felt amazing to feel something good for once. He wrapped his arms around the Vongola boss, pulling him closer to him as they stood under the beautiful cherry blossoms.

As Cozart held the man he had died for, he knew that this was how it should be.


End file.
